


A Fall from Grace

by PersianBlue



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-05 22:47:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16819984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersianBlue/pseuds/PersianBlue
Summary: After the attack on Watchpoint: Gibraltar, much of Overwatch's member data had been stolen. With evidence of a new threat blooming and allies disappearing at the hands of Talon, our heroes must fight to protect world order and themselves.





	1. Chapter 1

**Zürich, Switzerland, 3 months after the Recall.**

_Reporter: In recent news, Vishkar Corporation has been experiencing some delays with the housing project in Cancún. The recently ravaged city was underway for major reconstruction by the end of this month, but this has been pushed to a later date due to multiple incidents of workers going missing. Officials are doing their best to investigate the situation, and any indication of foul play by the local -_

__

Angela switched off the news, lazily tossing the remote to the side. She had heard the news a dozen times already while weaving in and out of patient rooms during her shift at the hospital. It had certainly been a long day. The doctor let her head sink into the memory foam pillow behind her, sighing in relief.

She was home, for what that was worth. It was great to be back in Switzerland. Mercy had missed the tranquil scenery of the country's capital, but inside, her apartment was dark and empty. Not that she minded - at least, she didn't used to. Overwatch had only recently rejoined, and yet she had already grown accustomed to the hustle and bustle of her extended family. It was hard not to feel a little lonesome in the silence of her bedroom. She missed seeing their smiling faces, particularly the grin of a certain British pilot...

Mercy closed her eyes, picturing the amiable brunette. Her sunny disposition that complemented her playful way of speaking, and that unwavering confidence... It seemed that Tracer always had a way of catching the doctor's eye. Every time she saw her, her gaze was practically drawn to the girl's tiny hips by that striking orange spandex. And if it weren't for the fact that she had a girlfriend, Angela would swear that that girl was flirting with her.

She allowed herself to indulge nevertheless. Entertaining the thought of having Tracer as her companion brought forth rather pleasant imagery. Her hands began to wander under her bathrobe and over supple skin. The loose knot came undone as fingers crept upwards, reaching her bosom.

The blonde moaned, her minds eye seeing not her hands, but Tracer's. She savored the thought, her stress melting to give way to pleasure. Rolling a now hardened nipple between index and thumb, she lowered her right hand to her groin, tracing circles around her nether regions. Her hips twitched forward in anticipation.

"Lena..." She muttered.

A sudden noise jarred Angela from her fantasies.

Quickly covering herself, she bolted upright to see that her cell phone was going off. She scooped up the device and answered the call.

"H-hello?" Cursing inwardly, she tried to calm her heart rate.

"Dr. Ziegler? Is this a bad time?"

"No, no. It's fine. I was awake anyway." A steady beeping could be heard from the other end of the line. Mercy knew what these kind of calls meant and got up, adjusting her robe.

"Yes... I'm sorry to call you so late, but would you mind coming in for a shift at 8? Two of our doctors have fallen ill and we really could use another hand on deck."

"I'm on my way" the Swiss woman replied, grabbing an energy shot from the fridge. Hanging up, she proceeded to get clean and dressed. Downing the shot in one gulp, she grabbed her bag and rushed out the door.

* * *

The sun was already beginning to rise by the time that Mercy got back to her apartment. She yawned, trying to remember the last time that she had gotten a proper night's rest. It was a good thing that her body could operate with minimal levels of sleep, thanks in large part to past experiments she had conducted on herself. Anyone else in her position would have collapsed from exhaustion long ago. But even she had her limits, and the weary angel was ready to give in. Making her way up the empty staircase, the Swiss doctor entered her quarters. At least now it seemed that she had some peace and -

"Oi! What took you so long? I've been waiting here for hours!"

Mercy stared at the source of the noise for a while, unsure if she was seeing things. Sitting on her couch with the most adorable pout was the very girl she had been thinking about before being called away. The young Brit was wearing a casual top and sweat pants that matched rather well with her Chronal Accelerator. The young girl bounced up and leaned forward inquisitively.

"Uh... Earth to Angela!" Tracer waved a hand before Mercy's face.

The shock of her situation wore of, and the older of the two regained her composure.

"Lena! Entschuldigung, it took me a while. I'm pretty tired."

She certainly had not been expecting company at this hour. At least she had already changed out of her work clothes. The cheery Brit giggled.

"I had no idea bars in Switzerland closed this late!"

A light blush donned the doctor's cheeks. "Don't be ridiculous! I was at the hospital."

"Whaaaaat?!" Tracer frowned and swung her hands dramatically. "Winston sent you on _vacation._ You know, to relax? He didn't mean to find you another job!."

Lena was right. She was practically forced out of Gibraltar when Winston caught her falling asleep in his office during a report briefing. Overwatch wasn't exactly overflowing with medics, and the heavy workload was too much for her. However, Winston managed to find a nice handful of new recruits and sent her on her way, hushing her protests, saying: "Even a miracle worker like you needs sleep and fresh air!"

But even here, she found it hard to sit still. The local clinic's plea for help was difficult to ignore as they, too, were short staffed, being the only free clinic for miles. After the second Omnic Crisis and sudden spike in terrorist activity, health insurance was a luxury most people couldn't afford. Medical treatment without said insurance, even more so. How could she let anyone suffer in a country that spawned some of the greatest breakthroughs of medical science?

"You're right, Lena. You know me..." She tried, and failed, to push back a yawn. "It's hard to ignore a cry for help."

The pilot gave her a small smile. "C'mon, luv. I brewed us some tea. It'll help you relax some while I make us breakfast."

She returned from the kitchen to find her friend fast asleep. With a small knowing sigh, Tracer picked her up bridal style and carried her to her bed. It was alright, she supposed. Mercy had a surprisingly bare pantry, and by now the grocery stores were beginning to flip their signs. The brunette cast one last loving gaze at the sleeping angel and set out to do some shopping.

* * *

**Translations: Entschuldigung = Sorry/Excuse me)**


	2. Chapter 2

Early afternoon sunbeams flitted through the window screen of Mercy's bedroom. She stretched, taking in the peaceful scene. She had had the strangest dream, but couldn't quite recall the details. Something about tea and pubs...

A high pitched whistle shrieked from her kitchen, and she scrambled to find the source of the commotion. This would not be the first time this week that the stove had been left on.

Mercy arrived in the kitchen to find Tracer frying what smelled to be ham and eggs, kettle boiling away at her side. The young Overwatch agent didn't seem to notice the sudden appearance of company. She continued to cook, murmuring something under her breath.

"...tide? No, no no! Bollocks, this is hard."

The blonde cleared her throat. "Why, hello there, Lena."

Tracer jumped, nearly spilling the contents of the pan onto the floor. In her haste to salvage the food, she bumped into the kettle full of boiling liquid. It would have emptied itself onto the floor if not for Mercy's quick reflexes.

"Careful!" She warned, grabbing hold of the handle just in time. She swiftly placed the device back on the stove.

"Ange..! What a surprise! Uh... Are you ok? That handle was really hot..."

Angela laughed. "Surely, a surprise to see me in my own home. What are you doing in my kitchen?"

Seeing the concern in Tracer's face, she brandished her hand, which had already mended itself. It was a minor burn, after all. The other girl relaxed.

"I came here last night to check up on you, you know? And judging by the way you conked out on me last night, it's a good thing I did. Have you even eaten anything since coming to Switzerland? Your pantry was practically empty!"

Suddenly it all came back to her; she hadn't dreamed anything at all. And despite the strange situation, it was nice to have some company.

"I have been eating. Just not at home." The statement was mostly true. When she had the time, she would grab a convenience store dinner on her way to and from work, although her schedule had resulted in many skipped meals. But she had a feeling that that wasn't her friend's idea of 'eating'. Speaking of food, she had only just noticed the surprisingly large spread laid out on the kitchen table: bacon, toast and jam, sausages, hash browns...

"I didn't realize that you cooked." She jested, throwing a smirk at her guest. The latter's cheeks began to heat up as she scratched the back of her head.

"Yeah... Well, I used to cook for Emily all the time. I was sort of the chef in our relationship."

Angela raised a brow at the use of past tense, but decided not to press any further for now. Her stomach was growling from the smells wafting through the room, and she couldn't wait to enjoy some real food for once. After the table was set, the two began to dig in. Mercy tentatively sipped her tea. It was brewed just the way she liked it; well steeped with cream, and a hint of lemon.

"Earl Grey." Tracer piped cheerfully. "That's your favorite, innit?"

The medic nodded. "You sure know your way around tea."

'Right? I'm like an expert!" She puffed out her chest with pride.

"You'd get along well with Genji, then."

Her friend folded her arms and displayed her signature pout. "No way! I don't get him and his funny green powder. You can't even make it taste good with a whole bucket of creamer!"

As the girls caught up with each other, the air grew hot as the day's temperature reached its peak. Mercy attempted to cool herself with a makeshift fan as she watched the clouds drift outside. The Brit threw her arms around the Swiss woman's shoulders.

"It's been ages since I've been in Switzerland. Let's go somewhere fun!"

The corners of Mercy's lips pulled up into a smile. "Oh, alright... I suppose it would be more productive than sitting here all day. I'll bring you somewhere nice."

* * *

**Cancún, Quintana Roo, Mexico**

The streets of Cancún sat in an eerie fog that rolled in from the Caribbean Sea. The torrential downpour did little to nothing in clearing the low-lying cloud. It was days like this that the people hid in what little shelters they still had.

The wind whistled with fury as a lone man ran desperately through the streets. Hurricanes and tropical storms had become a frequent occurrence in this once beautiful city, toppling buildings that rested too close to the beach. Yet the storm was not the only impending threat for the stray Vishkar worker. He ducked into a nearby building - if such a roofless ruin could be called that - and checked his communicator:

_Location: Cancún, 4:36am. No signal._

The man groaned, trying to think of anywhere he could go to hide. He poked his head out for any indication of his pursuer. To his relief, there was none.

"Looking for me?" A raspy voice behind him called.

The man turned in horror, now face-to-face with a black robbed man of frightening stature. The black eye holes of his mask showed no detail of the visage beneath, and yet the worker could feel a glare colder than the stinging rain burrowing through his skull.

"Wh-What do you want w-with me...?" He wailed, backing into the wall. There was nowhere left to run. He could feel a cold sweat break out as he watched the nightmarish scene unfold before him. The creature advanced on him slowly, and then shot forward with an inhuman speed. With no time to react, the worker crumpled under the force of the trauma, vision going black.

"That's not for you to know."

* * *

**Several hours later in Zürich, Switzerland.**

A cool breeze swept over Lake Zürich, causing the trees to sing out in a calming symphony. In the twilight, two figures made their way back to their residence.

"That was something!" Angela giggled, hugging a small pink plush toy.

"C'mon, Ange. You know how good of a shot I am. Of course I'd win you something!"

Indeed, the pilot had won not just one prize, but ten before she was chased away from the stall. Mostly, she did it for the poor group of kids who couldn't shoot for the life of them - but she kept one for herself to surprise her fair-haired colleague.

"I must admit, I greatly enjoyed our little outing. It was nice to relax with a friend."

Tracer beamed at her, clutching the device in her bag. She had taken her friend's phone and set it to 'do not disturb'. Mercy would not approve, but she couldn't just work her entire life. She'd burn out, for goodness' sake! And what she didn't know couldn't hurt her, right? Fortunately for her, Angela could be quite forgetful at times and did not notice her missing cell.  
By the time that they arrived at Mercy's flat, the night had set in. Lena was shown to the spare bedroom and finally got to the business of unpacking while her friend left to shower. Ensuring that she was indeed alone, the Englishwoman pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper, contemplating the scrawled words before her.

* * *

_A few days prior, at Watchpoint: Gibraltar_

Tracer sighed as she lost for the umpteenth time against her two friends. The continue screen prompted a reply as the Super Siege 3 game over theme played in the background. Lúcio gave her a look.

"Trace! I know we're good and all, but you gotta step up your game!"

"Sorry, luv. I kinda got a lot on my mind, I guess."

The statement seemed to pique D. Va's attention. "What kind of stuff?"

The two looked at their friend expectantly. Tracer fidgeted in her chair and bit her lip in embarrassment.

"Well, uh... There's just this girl, and you know..."

Lúcio burst out into laughter. "You still have it in for Dr. Ziegler? What are you even worried about? All you have to do is turn that charm of yours and she'd play right into your hands!"

D. Va's eyes widened. "What? That's the first I heard of this! How long have you been pining after her?"

"Dude, you didn't know?" The dark skinned DJ shook his head in disbelief. "I'm pretty sure she's been after her since day one! Or for all I know-" he whispered "-before the recall!"

The Korean let out an 'oooh!' as Tracer's face turned beet red.

"C'mon, guys! It's not funny!" she whined, but she laughed nevertheless.

The friends settled down after a few moments, and Lúcio broke the silence with some advice.

"O.K. Real talk: A genius like Ziegler is totally all for great prose. I know she seems so professional, but I've seen the way she looks at Shakespeare and Sapho." He winked.

"Yeah!" D. Va chimed in. "You should totally write her a poem! I'm sure she'd love it! She's on vacation now, isn't she? Just go over there and let it all out!"

The cheery brunette contemplated this advice. It seemed pretty solid. And if her friends were so sure about it, why not? It had been some time since she saw the Alps anyway.

"Wicked! That might just work! I guess I'll leave you two lovebirds to it, then. Cheers, luvs!

With that, she set out to the nearest docking station.

* * *

Back in the apartment, Lena looked over the sheet of paper in her hand and sighed. She couldn't lose heart here! Now would be the perfect time, after the day that they had. She wished that she still had Lúcio on her side... English may well be her native language, but she was certainly not the most skilled of poets.

Her thoughts were interrupted by footsteps at the doorway. She turned to see her host holding out a bundle of cloth.

"I hope I'm not intruding... I brought you some fresh bed sheets." Her gaze fell to the sheet in Tracer's hand. "What's that? A letter?"

"Ah! No, it's nothing! Nothing at all, luv." She hastily hid the sheet behind her back. The medic raised her brow.

"If you say so. Honestly, I'm surprised you chose to spend your vacation time here with your doctor, and not your girlfriend." mused the Swiss woman, sitting down on the bed. Tracer blushed awkwardly, partially due to the subject at hand, but also from the sudden proximity with her crush.

"Oh, Emily? We kinda went separate ways a while back. There was a lot going on in both our lives, and with me travelling all the time for Overwatch, things weren't working out so well."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Lena." Mercy replied softly.

"Oh, it's alright. It was more or less mutual. And we're still friends, so there's that!" said the youthful Brit .

There was a small uncomfortable silence between them. It hung in the air like a haze. Tracer could feel her heart pounding in her chest and took a deep breath.

"Actually, Ange... There's something I need to tell you."

Mercy's blue eyes widened in surprise. The air in the room became so charged with tension they both found it hard to breathe. Drawing up her courage, the Brit prepared what she had to say. At last, she made her move.

"Ange, I- "

**BEEP BEEP BEEP!**

****

The sound of their Overwatch pagers rang through the air, scaring them both. They activated their devices to see an urgent command to meet back at the watchpoint, ASAP. According to the pager, there was already an aircraft in their vicinity, and they were to make their way to it with haste.

****

They hurried to their destination and boarded the small plane. There were a few other agents on board with them, though no one knew the true nature of the sudden call. They arrived at Gibraltar to find much more activity than they had anticipated.

****

"Medics, gather in sector C! Offense agents, see your active lieutenant for a detailed report!"

****

Tracer cast a regretful look at her companion.

****

"It's alright. I'm sure I'll be busy patching you up again before you know it." She ruffled the pilot's windswept hair. "And that thing you wanted to tell me? You can let me know once we get back from our mission. Good luck out there!"

****

With a parting wave, the doctor sprinted to join the rest of the healers.

****


	3. Chapter 3

Widowmaker set herself in position for the night's attack. She took great care setting up her hideout, despite the predicted ease of the mission. Better to be prepared for the worst. The opposing corporation appeared to have discovered their plans to strike. No matter. It would be child's play to take out what little defenses the company had left, even if the local army came into play.

The Frenchwoman placed a venom mine a few paces behind her position, mind trailing. This wasn't like her. Normally all the pieces would be falling into place. In her previous missions, her heart would be pounding with the anticipation of another kill. Her body would begin to feel invigorated. _Alive._ And yet she stood there, emotionless as ever; the sniper's raison d'être more obligatory than exhilarating.

The sound of footsteps gave notice of another presence on the rooftop. A familiar purple-haired agent waved her hand in greeting.

"Hey there."

"What do _you_ want?" questioned Widowmaker

"Relax, amiga. I'm just here to check up on my old friend."

The blue-skinned woman scoffed. Sombra had many 'friends', of which she did not wish to be included. Talon's hacker had a way with information, and more often than not used it to exploit those unfortunate enough to fall under her radar.

They gazed down at the scene a few buildings down. Various grunts were doing their own little preparations, passing out arms and forming in line.

"It's a nice night" Sombra started. She looked over at Widow, who ignored her, polishing her rifle. "You must be itching to get out there, with some _real _excitement - Not just standard Talon training. Maybe tonight will break that strange demeanor you've taken on. You know, since that job in London?"__

____

The hand polishing the Widow's Kiss flinched before going back to its duty in an attempt to save face. "I know not of what you speak." was her stiff reply. The assassin placed the silken rag back in her rifle case.

Sombra's lips curled into a grin. She had hit a nerve.

"Oh, well, I'm sure you're just sick of laying low like Talon ordered after such a high profile kill. Antsy. It happens. I mean, you couldn't possibly have a different reason, right? Not that I'm judging here, araña. Maybe killing has lost its charm?"

Golden eyes projected a venomous glare. Sombra had a way with running her mouth. She bit her tongue for now, knowing that it would be unwise to indulge her with a defensive reply.

One of the black-clad workers below gave a signal. The attack would be commencing soon. Sombra brushed an invisible hair off her shoulder.

"Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but that's my cue. Adios." Her fingers curled in final wave before she phased out of view.

A few seconds later, a purple beacon lit up in the night as Sombra emerged, playfully retrieving the device.

Amélie Lacroix. What an interesting girl. She would have to keep a close eye on her.

* * *

The Overwatch aircraft commenced its decent into Spanish airspace. Inside, Tracer hopped from one foot to the other, Pulse Pistols in hand. The majority of the platoon simply sat there, steeling themselves for battle. Their commander watched on, facial features mostly hidden by her yellow visor.

"Patience, Oxton. Your movements will not get us there any faster."

"Sorry, cap!" Lena replied. "I'm just warming up my legs. Gotta get that blood flowing before the show!" A few nearby soldiers snickered.

The helicopter began to sway, signaling that they would be arriving to their destination shortly. The group stood, preparing to disembark. Pharah looked over her team, all poised for action. She felt the surge of pre-battle adrenaline pumping through her veins. She addressed the brave men and women under her command.

"Alright, team. Listen up. We are to head directly for Vishkar's base of operations in Cancún. With luck, we'll get there before Talon and have some time to set up defenses. If not, unleash hell on those terrorists; just try to keep any damage of the surrounding area to a minimum." As if on cue, the hatch opened with a resounding click.

"We will not fail the mission. Move out!"

The troops made their way past the landing stretch near the city's downtown region. As toppled houses gave way to more orderly buildings, their objective came into view. The unmistakable building dwarfed its neighbours with its majesty. Surely, the architects of their newfound allies lived up to their expectations.

They arrived to find several Vishkar workers paroling the perimeter. Upon seeing the Overwatch soldiers, one of the security personnel approached.

"Vishkar thanks you for your aid. We have deployed security agents around the surrounding area, and sentry turrets inside the building itself, in case they breach our defenses. You will find medical supplies in the lobby in the event of injury."

Pharah gave a curt nod. "Our other defense team is on their way to meet up with the guards at the warehouse, as planned. What is the status of the situation?"

"So far, all clear. We have yet to hear back from our unit patrolling Av. Del Sol, but they are due back in any moment. As of yet, there has been no sign of-"

An audible whoosh ripped through the night. There was a brief moment in which the guard stood there, staring at nothing in particular, eyes glassy. Then, like a puppet with cut strings, they crumpled to the ground, blood pooling at both sides of their skull. The Overwatch captain instinctively jumped back, eyes on the rooftops. In the distance, she saw Widowmaker's lithe figure, rifle pointed straight at them.

"Sniper!" She roared. "Get to cover!"

At that moment, Talon soldiers burst in from all sides. Caught by surprise, the heroes did their best to evade the enemy fire. The Egyptian launched a concussive blast at the encroaching invaders. They were outnumbered; their group could not afford to be cornered.

"We must fight on both fronts! Protect the control point!"

They charged, sending out cover fire from behind their allies' Photon Barriers. Pharah gritted her teeth as she watched two more of her soldiers collapse, felled by the wretched shooter above. Her communication device buzzed in her ear.

"Captain! This is Tracer! I'm going after that sniper!"

Pharah dodged a stray bullet, sending out a shot of her own before calling back. "Affirmative. Be careful out there, Oxton. Make it back in one piece."

* * *

_Not good._ Thought Mercy as she heard explosions in the distance. Her eyes lingered on the horizon, wondering how her friends were faring. She had no doubts about the other medics, but it was too easy to imagine all the casualties brought on by the heavy gunfire. However, she was put in charge of supporting the warehouse defense. Overwatch had sent out five others to bolster the storage's security, including a Korean MEKA unit. Since Angela's Caduceus Staff could heal the mech just as efficiently as organic matter, it was only logical that she be paired with the defense line.

Her team stood idly by the sturdy warehouse. Their presence was merely a precaution; Vishkar did not have any suspicions that their storage facility was to be targeted during the night's raid, but they wanted to be on the safe side.

"It seems as though the fight has started." Said a voice to her left. It was a member of Vishkar's security team, yet unlike the others, the dark-skinned woman wore no armor. She extended a metalic arm.

"My name is Symmetra."

"Mercy. Pleased to meet you." 

The Indian woman smiled cooly at the response. "The pleasure is all ours. We are pleased to have your agency's cooperation, and look forward to working with you in the future."

While the two were talking, the electric display of the warehouse lock began to flicker. After a few moments, the machine let out a slow whir, and the nearest of the security team went up to investigate. The lock had been opened.

"Hey there." came a voice from behind the worker's flank. A spray of bullets assaulted the backside of the soldier, who collapsed in a pool of crimson. The defense team swiveled at the sudden noise, coming face to face with the nefarious hacker. The soldiers began firing in all directions in attempt to disable the nimble threat. Sombra smirked, gracefully dodging the incoming fire with a flip.

"Form up ranks! Enemies incoming!" Symmetra shouted. Sombra threw a stray beacon, taking cover as she continued to assail the party. That is, until there was the unmistakable sound of a heavy MEKA unit behind her.

"Found you!" Sing-songed the playful teen as she let loose an unending rain from her Fusion Cannons. The hacker cursed, sprinting to the nearest escape. She still had another minute before her cloaking device would be ready to use again.

"Oh, you are _not_ getting away!" D. Va shouted as she continued pursuit.

Mere feet away the battle waged on. Mercy retracted her Caduceus Staff, looking around for more wounded. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her team's mech coming their way on the heels of a Talon invader. The pursued quickened the pace, jumping straight into the center of their group.

"¡Apagando las luces!"

A purple wave shot out from the Spanish woman and over the entire defense team. Suddenly, all the group's electrical gear ceased working; sentry turrets shut down, communication devices were disabled. Even the Valkyrie suit felt some of the EMP's ill effects. Thankfully, their guns still worked. With desperate determination, they redoubled their offensive efforts, medics taking cover whilst patching wounds.

Angela dodged an incoming grenade that had been lobbed by the enemy. She flicked the device back, and to her horror saw Overwatch's youngest member still chasing her quarry, unwilling to admit defeat.

"Hana! Don't go off on your own!" The medic yelled, forgetting that their line of communication had been cut. _Scheiße, what was the girl thinking?_

Mercy paused, not wanting to leave the protection of her allies - but she'd be damned if she let anything happen to the teen. She lunged forward, weaving through cover zones to avoid enemy fire. Mercy followed the faint sound of the mech, eventually tailing her teammate to a back alley. Behind her, the sounds of speeding bullets roared. She ran at full speed, catching a quick glimpse of her ally. At that moment the EMP's effect faded, and the blonde thanked whatever entity that was watching over her. Once the Valkyrie suit locked onto its target, Angela soared through the sky towards the ledge before her.

She was halfway to her destination when felt a sharp pain in her side. Her Valkyrie suit gave out, left wing torn to shreds. The asphalt seemed to rise up to meet her tender flesh, head crashing into the ground with brutal force. Her communicator sizzled bleakly before dying out. Mercy struggled to remain conscious; any second now, her body would begin mending itself.

"Fancy seeing you here, _doc."_

The ghostly voice sent a shiver down her spine. Mercy tried to focus through her blurry vision. She could barely make out the dark figure coming towards her. The doctor tried to stall, buying time for her body's regeneration.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Her eyes began to refocus, slowly revealing the dark robed terrorist. She instantly recognized the criminal - he was all over the news. The skull mask gazed down at her incapacitated body.

"That should be obvious." He croaked. Angela shivered.

"You want to kill me?"

The creature let out a harrowing sound from its throat and threw back its head. The noise resembled more of a blood-choked struggle for air than a laugh. Reaper drew one of his shotguns and pressed the barrel into Mercy's aching temple.

"Don't tempt me. It's hard enough not to shoot you as it is."

The doctor scowled. "What have I ever done to you?"

"Funny you should ask..." He spat, hand reaching up to his face. The mask unclasped, revealing the mauled face beneath. Angela's eyes widened in recognition.

"Reyes?! But...how...? It just isn't possible!" The former Blackwatch commander put the mask back on his face.

"Oh, it's possible, alright. All thanks to the use of that _life changing_ technology of yours. I'd leave you to rot in this miserable alley if I didn't need you alive."

Mercy tried to reach for her pistol unnoticed, ignoring the blood oozing from her torso. Unfortunately, Reaper was keeping a close eye on his target. He swiftly kicked the girl's arm, her weapon flying from her grasp as she yelped in pain.

"You self-healers are always such a nuisance. Time to end this stupid game." He brought down his heavy gun and knocked the healer unconscious.

* * *

Tracer made her way up the stairs of the building opposite of Vishkar. As she neared the top, the young soldier slowed her gait lest the French assassin was expecting her arrival. Back pressed against the wall, she gathered up her courage and bolted out, charging straight for her adversary.

"Oi, you! Why don't'cha play with someone who can see you?"

She fired a round from her pulse pistols, forcing the sniper to jump back in defense. Spinning on the balls of her feet, Widowmaker fired a shot at the Brit, who had luckily just recalled to avoid the now triggered venom mine.

_Yikes! Be careful, Lena..._ She thought as she advanced, blinking to throw off the enemy shooter.

The assassin ceased her attacks, tracking the Overwatch agent's movements.

One blink.

Two.

_Just one more, now... _She tried to predict where the brunette would warp next. She narrowed her eyes. _Any moment now... There...! _____

_____ _

The sniper thrust an elbow forward, landing a blow on the girls stomach. In quick succession she brought down her weapon, Widow's Kiss biting into the Chronal Accelerator, followed by a powerful low sweep that knocked the hero off her feet.

_____ _

Combat reflexes kicking in, Tracer executed a sideways roll using the momentum of her fall - a trick she had learned off McCree - and reloaded her pistols while clambering back to her feet. Before she could shoot, however, Widowmaker reconfigured her gun, firing a rain of bullets her way.

_____ _

Unable to rely on her accelerator, she jumped and spun in every direction to avoid injury. She was caught off guard by a crack in the concrete and stumbled, barely catching herself on time to dodge the last of the bullets.

_____ _

Widowmaker smiled. "Ooh la la, elle danse!"

_____ _

Finaly, her heart was beating with excitement. That feeling of being alive returned to her. Before her stood a target worthy of her skill. The cold hearted killer was sure of it now; this is what her heart had been craving. A challenge.

_____ _

The British girl couldn't understand what exactly what was being said, but she knew as well as anyone when she was being mocked. Cheeks burning in humiliation, she shot back at her adversary.

_____ _

"Not everyone can speak French, you know!"

_____ _

Pistols at the ready, she lunged at her enemy. The widow had anticipated this, and used her grapple shot to propel herself forward, setting herself on a collision course. The assassin twirled in mid-air, feet crashing into Lena at the last second, sending her flying backwards and dislodging her guns in the process.

_____ _

It seemed that the sniper was better at close combat than her small frame would indicate.

_____ _

Tracer threw her foot down in an attempt to regain her stance, making quick contact with the ground. Her heart sank as she heard the screech of metal below, the spring-activated bear trap biting deep into her right leg. Unarmed and restrained, the Overwatch agent was at the mercy of her enemy. Before her, predatory eyes lit up with mirth. Taking her time to brush the dust off her clothes, Widowmaker coked her rifle, slow smile on her lips.

_____ _

"Perhaps had you not been so insistent on speaking to me, you could have shot me as I picked off your little friends. The wonders of youth."

_____ _

Tracer swallowed. Had she not been in such a vulnerable position, she would have pointed out that Widow could have shot her by now, had she not been "so insistent on speaking", herself.

_____ _

"Tell me, chérie: do you always let your targets know when you are about to shoot them? Ben, ça fait peu d'importance."

_____ _

The Talon agent raised her gun, lining up the perfect shot. Tracer could feel the sting of tears pricking her eyes. This was it. This was where she was going to die...

_____ _

"You don't have to do this!" She choked, looking straight into the assassin's golden eyes.

_____ _

Widowmaker hesitated. There was a flash of something in her pleading expression. Something familiar. A memory, just out of reach...

_____ _

She shook her head to clear the fog of her mind.

_____ _

"No one escapes the huntress. Adieu, petit chou."

_____ _

Lena forcefully shut her eyes, pained expression directed at the ground. She waited with baited breath for the final sound of her demise. It seemed an eternity before the silence was finally broken.

_____ _

"Justice rains from above!"

_____ _

The young soldier opened her eyes just in time to see the sniper zip to cover in order to avoid the barrage of rockets. The force of the nearby blast caused the trap to spring open, components flying in all directions.

_____ _

Widowmaker readied her gun once more under the shield of her hiding place. She would just have to eliminate this threat before going back to her restrained prey...

_____ _

Suddenly, she felt the bite of gunfire stinging her back.

_____ _

"Not on my watch, luv!"

_____ _

She turned to see that her target had escaped and re-located her guns. To engage in battle now would be quite the folly. _Tch... Quel ennui._  
She released a volley of bullets from her assault rifle to cover her escape and launched herself off the rooftop.

_____ _

Tracer let out a deep sigh of relief. Her foot hurt like nothing else, but she was alive. Her captain landed, and made her way to Lena's side.

_____ _

"You are hurt. I'll bring you to the medical team."

_____ _

The younger agent had yet to completely lose the adrenaline from her near-death experience. She gazed at Pharah in awe.

_____ _

"Captain..! How did you know I needed help? Not that I'm complaining, though!"

_____ _

"I didn't." Pharah replied stiffly. "Once the sniper was distracted, our team easily gained the upper ground. Those Talon greenhorns were hardly a threat with our ally's support. You didn't check in, and I had a feeling that something was wrong... You should have called for help."

_____ _

"Riiiiight..." She could have smacked herself. How had she forgotten? It must have been the heat of battle.

_____ _

The armored Egyptian picked up her injured comrade, rocketing their way back to their team. Despite the deadly encounter, Tracer could only think about that brief moment in which Widowmaker had looked almost... Vulnerable.

_____ _

"Hey, cap... Have you ever hesitated to shoot an enemy?"

_____ _

Her captain was silent. Tracer was starting to think that she hadn't heard the question when the older woman gave her reply.

_____ _

"If you hesitate to shoot your target, you are fighting for the wrong cause."

_____ _

* * *

_____ _

**Translations:**

_____ _

**Araña = Spider**

_____ _

**Amiga = Friend**

_____ _

**Scheiße= Crap**

_____ _

**Ooh la la, elle danse! = Ooh la la, she dances!**

_____ _

**Ben, ca fait peu d'importance roughly translates to: Really, it does not matter.**

_____ _

**Quel ennui (in this case) = What an annoyance**

_____ _


	4. Chapter 4

The cold, early morning mist clung to Tracer's face, sending goose bumps up her arms. She scampered on, scanning the area around her for fallen comrades. They may have been victorious, but they had still suffered casualties. A head was peeking out from under some broken crates in the distance. She tossed the beaten boxes aside. A weak cough escaped the man's lips.

_He's alive... Thank goodness_ "We got another one!" She shouted, crouching beside the soldier. The nearest medic began tending to his wounds.

"Good work, Tracer. Are you sure you should be out here? Your leg..."

"Nope! I'm fine!" The Brit said cheerily. "You patched me up real good, see?"

Lena stuck out her right leg for emphasis. Pain shot up her injured limb like an electric shock, but she tried her best to hide it. The doctor gazed at her, unconvinced.

"Look, Tracer? We have plenty of people here covering this area already. Could you do me a favor and update the status list in the lobby? I think the relief team might even have brought along some spare nanoparticles."

The medic extended her arm, smiling sweetly. Tracer reluctantly accepted the list and made her way to the lobby. When she arrived, her eyes fell on a familiar face.

"Hana! How did your mission go?"

D. Va turned, face already framed with a smile at the sound of her friend's voice.

"Good as always, Lena! Get this: they actually tried to break into the warehouse! It was pretty intense - I even had to eject from my MEKA - but of course, we won. ...Well, I think they did manage to take something, but that Vishkar lady said they'd be unable to use it unless they know exactly how it worked."

Only half listening to the story, Tracer stood on the tip of her left foot for leverage, trying her best to see in through the glass doors of the main entrance.

"Hey... Angie was on your team, right? Is she here?"

"Dr. Ziegler...?" D. Va put a finger on her head in a stereotypical 'thinking' fashion. "Hmmm... Nope. I think she went back to Gibralter. By the time I regrouped after the battle, she was gone."

The brunette sighed. "Oh..."

Glancing over at Tracer, Hana noticed the state of her leg. "Don't worry! She may not be here, but I have a dose of her nanoparticles!"

Lena accepted the gift, not wanting to disclose the real reason behind her looking for the Swiss healer. Once her leg had mended, the Overwatch agent hopped over to the small terminal by the reception desk, which had been temporarily linked to one of Athena's servers.

"Done and done!" She exclaimed after transferring all the data. She stopped just short of logging off the machine, curiosity getting the better of her. Tracer switched the display so that it showed information regarding the secondary defense team. She scrolled through the various names of the defense until finally reaching what she was looking for. Slightly perturbed, she double checked the status screen.

T06 32706, D. Va: Idle

D66 34227, Durian: Idle

D70 29081, Vandium: WIA

**S86 12883, Mercy: TDA**

O40 86379, Poppy: Idle

D64 48035, Cole: Deceased

_That's weird... Ange always reports in..._ Tracer decided to check the flight log in case she simply forgot in her rush to tend to the injured. A new display flashed onscreen:

_Agent S86 12883, Mercy, has not boarded any Overwatch aircrafts in the specified time._

_Most recent flight: Gibraltar, 9:45PM. Destination: Cancún_

Tracer spun around to check the lobby once more. In her haste, she bumped straight into Pharah, who had come to the terminal to change her own status.

"Don't forget to log off before leaving the terminal." Her gaze flicked downwards. "I see that your leg is now in good condition."

Lena went back to the machine, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. After logging off the device, she addressed the Egyptian.

"Sorry, luv. I'm just looking for Ange. You seen her? Her flight log says she's still in Mexico, but I haven't seen her."

A soft smile found it's way onto Fareeha's lips. "Oh? That doesn't come as much of a surprise. Knowing Angela, she's probably still tending to the wounded back at the warehouse. They should be finished soon, however."

She barely had had enough time to finish the sentence when Tracer shot up and made her way to the lobby exit.

"Thanks, luv! I'll catch up with you later!" With a flash of blue, she was out of sight.

* * *

**Talon outpost, Unknown location.**

Sombra leaned back into her chair, feet resting on her cluttered desk. She gulped down the last of her drink and set the empty can beside the rest. The hacker still had some work to do, but she deserved a break after all her hard work.

After her stealth attack on the warehouse defense team, the canon fodder Talon had provided her with proved to be a great distraction. There was a moment in which she was pursued, but her silly foe stood no chance at catching her once her cloaking systems came back online. After that, it was a piece of cake to loop around the perimeter, just as she had the first time. And who would notice the subtle open and close of a warehouse door with gunfire raining in from the other direction?

The dim light of her monitor illuminated the device in her hands. It was a puzzle, to say the least, even with the information they had weaned out of the low ranking Vishkar workers. Seeing it up close and personal almost made her wish that she hadn't rid herself of her guests - not that they had much else to give.

A buzzing in the monitor caught her attention. Sombra slipped the device in her pocket and activated her webcam.

"Hey." She offered nonchalantly.

"Sombra. Why haven't you reported in?" Came a distorted voice on the other end.

"You know, it's not fair if you don't turn on your webcam. It makes me feel so lonely. I already know what you look like - And sound like." She added, poking fun at her boss' filtered voice. "Besides, why go through the trouble of contacting you when you're just going to do it anyway? _Bondad,_ Pedro, you'll have me worked to death!"

There was a disgruntled huff from the monitor. Her boss was familiar with her antics. She was lucky to be Talon's most talented hacker; she was too valuable of an asset to be disposed of for attitude alone.

"I take it you have at least obtained what you were assigned to fetch?"

_Fetch._ She hated that word. Sombra pulled her face into a grin. "Of course. Tu fiel perro, at your service."

"Good. We'll continue with phase two of the plan. Make sure to report back to me the moment you are done. And Sombra?"

"Hmm?"

"Keep an eye on that sordid mercenary of ours. He's up to something."

"Will do. Sombra offline."

She clicked the button on her desk, and the monitor's light instantly blinked out.

* * *

****

Cancún, Mexico

****

**  
**

Tracer sprinted down the narrow alleyway, casting an agitated glance at the person behind her. How could they be so calm in a situation like this? She recalled what had happened when she had arrived at the alternate defense point.

Lena had arrived to find a small group of people re securing the warehouse after last night's attack. When she discovered that no one had seen her friend since the battle, her mind immediately jumped to the worst case scenario. Mercy's body mended itself; she would not be incapacitated for this long. If she still hadn't returned...  
It was then that the woman she was with suggested checking the night's security footage, allowing them to trail their ally up to this point.

The Overwatch agent shook her head, ceasing the recollection. _Not Ange... She can''t be dead. She just can't be..._

"Hey, you! You sure we're in the right place?" The question was more of a blanket for her worry than anything. The young Brit slowed her pace, allowing the blue-clad architect time to catch up. In mere moments they were side by side again. Despite her appearance, Symmetra was deceptively fast.

"According to our systems, yes. This was our last sighting of her."

Tracer grit her teeth. While she knew that Symmetra was only doing her best, it was still frustrating to have such a lack of information. She jolted ahead, using her blink to propel herself forward. Her eyes hastily scanned the narrow space as she passed. Even with the sun having risen, there was hardly any light to make the search any easier.

Her foot brushed against an empty garbage can, the speed of the impact knocking it over. Using her recall to avoid tripping, Tracer gazed at the toppled container. Was that a glow she saw from behind the rusted metal...? Trance-like, she approached the object and moved it aside.

Before her on the ground lay Angela's Caduceus Staff.

"No... Ange... You wouldn't just leave this behind..." She muttered. Lena cradled the device in her arms and held it against her chest. She spun around and shouted as loud as she could. "Angela! Where are you?! Please answer, luv!

... Please..." Her voice faded to a whisper. Through the corner of her eye, she could see Symmetra approaching her.

"You should come over here. I believe I may have found something."

Tracer followed the architect with a heavy heart. She was surprised, however, when she was shown not a body, but a small pistol lying on the ground.

"Do you recognize this?"

Tracer nodded. The Indian woman used her Photon Projector to illuminate the area, revealing a large patch of dried blood. The younger woman was left speechless.

'But... Where is she?" She asked, already knowing the answer. Still, she needed to hear it.

"I believe she was taken by our attackers."

* * *

****

**Talon safehouse, Veracruz, Mexico.**

A lone spider crawled up the wall of the makeshift clinic, making its home in the concrete. Widowmaker watched as is scuttled closer and closer to the ceiling, shaping its web as it went. The assassin was surprised that she had to wait any time at all. She was overdue for her weekly injections - not that she minded - and they had been expecting her.

Although her organization assured her that the medications were essential to keeping her alive, it made them no less unpleasant to receive. She knew, however, that it would do no good to avoid a necessary evil such as this. Already, she was beginning to feel fatigued; the first symptom of not receiving her timely dose. The Frenchwoman did not wish to find out what the rest of the symptoms were. Thus when the door opened to reveal yet another technician, she was met with both dread and relief.

The man gave her a quick once-over and jotted a few notes on his clipboard.

"You seem to be in good health, aside from the bullet wounds in your back and a few other minor injuries."

He seemed just as unphased by the harm done to her by Talon as she was herself. A punishment for her failure. He continued.

"You've been scheduled for a change in medications. Our systems say that your current one is proving to be rather taxing on your heart, which is affecting your overall performance. You will take these daily from now on. Do not forget to take them, or there will be severe consequences. Someone will check back with you in a week."

He handed her two small pills which she swallowed with ease. From his lab coat, he produced a bottle containing several doses. The exchange over, she addressed her 'doctor'.

"Is that all?"

"Yes." He stated flatly. "You may go."

As she left the examination room, a certain purple haired hacker came into view. She was standing directly opposite of the exam room, back against the wall. Widowmaker gave her a sour look. Her golden eyes pierced Sombra's purple ones, both of them refusing to be the first to break eye contact.

"Come to laugh at me for failing my mission?"

Sombra's face assumed a look of mock insult. "Laugh at you? Me? Of course not! We're friends, remember? What kind of friend does that?" She kicked off the wall, walking a few paces. "I just thought I'd give you something to do while you're recovering."

Widowmaker's left brow arched in surprise. It was a rather unusual proposal, even from her. Intrigued, she took the bait.

"What are you suggesting?"

Sombra let the silence drag out for a while, gauging the other woman's interest.

"To tell you the truth, it would be so much easier to show you when you get there. How about you pay me a visit tomorrow at our base in Dorado at, say... 3pm? I'll order us something to eat. Our agency has no idea how to make a proper meal, si? But I have the connections."

"Don't be foolish. Talon has no base in Mexico."

"Don't they?" Challenged the Hispanic woman. She procured a slip of paper from her breast pocket and handed it to the assassin. The recipient looked down at the card, on which was written a single address.

"I'll catch you in Dorado, Araña."

* * *

**Translations:**

**WIA = Wounded in Action**

**TDA = Temporary Duty Assignment. A travel assignment at a location other than the employee's permanent duty station.**

**Bondad = Goodness**

Tu fiel perro = Your faithful hound


	5. Chapter 5

**Talon outpost, Dorado, Mexico**

A low growl echoed through the shadows of the heavy chamber.

"What do you mean, there was another setback?!" Bellowed Reaper at the monitor. The aide behind him stepped back defensively, praying that his anger would subside without incident. After what happened to the last lab assistant...

"Your condition is complicated." Returned the voice from the computer. "There are still plenty of things we don't know about the particles inhabiting your body, and that is hindering our ability to address your degeneration. And with regards to your other request, the closest thing we have to achieve such a feat is with the very technology you hate so much. It's unlikely we'll get any promising results in the near future, unless we gain access to Overwatch's most guarded medical files."

The air around Reaper grew thick with rage. He knew this game.

"Well, you're in luck." He snapped. "I managed to capture the doctor herself the other night. I'll hand her over to you once we break her, if you show me some real progress. Otherwise, I'll make sure the only way you're ever getting her is in a casket."

The sound of distorted laughter rang across the room. "An empty threat, Reyes. We both know you need her a much as we do. No, maybe even more so. After all, I only need information on her _perfected_ works, not some failed experiment."

Anger boiled up inside the wraith. With a roar, Reaper drew out one of his shotguns and fired at the trembling man behind him.

"You better watch your mouth, or it'll be you finding yourself at the business end of my guns one of these days."

Suppressing the urge to destroy the room altogether, he simply picked the dying worker up by the scruff of his neck and dragged him out of the room, sucking his life energy as he went. As he walked, he felt his tattered body slowly begin to regenerate. Once it reached its apex, there was again the dreaded feeling of pain, of another cycle of death commencing. He clenched his fists, effectively crushing the victim's neck. The sooner they got the information, the better.

* * *

__

_Overwatch Swiss HQ, 6 years ago_

Mercy stood at the doorway of her office in shock. Before her, the once pristine halls of Overwatch's main headquarters was littered in debris. Further down, the different sections of the building were now indiscernible. Not even the nearby inpatient wing was spared, despite being far from the blast.

A painful moan pervaded the air. The faint sound of broken sobs carried through the ruins; the bitter song of tragedy.

Angela was ripped from her stupor. People _needed_ her. She ran towards the source of the pained moan, dropping to her knees and clawed at the broken concrete.

"Don't worry! I'm here! I'm with you! Are you in pain? Can you speak? Are you - "

She cut off, hands falling to her sides. The body she had unearthed was clearly dead. Her blue eyes were filled with grief as she assessed the wreckage. Her patients... Her coworkers...

_This is no time to lose yourself, Ziegler!_ She thought, clearing her head. With shaking hands, the blonde activated her communicator, radioing in to the agency's emergency line.

"I need disaster relief teams to Overwatch Swiss Headquarters, stat! The entire area of the building's north wing and central facility have collapsed in a massive explosion! Send all the help that you can spare!"

The voice at the other end of the line spoke with professionally trained calm. "Affirmative. We will get there as soon as the situation allows. Gather as many surviving medics as you can in the meantime to assist you."

"There _are_ no other medics, verdammt!" She cried, tears now falling in full. The medical staff had all been attending a meeting directly under the explosion. A meeting _she_ had been late for, due to a missing file in her report. She deactivated the device and ran through the rubble, looking for survivors.

Time stretched on as she went from one end of the building to the next. The closer she got to the explosion, the fewer survivors she found. Mercy only wished that she could shift the heavy concrete below her to access the many trapped underneath. How many of her friends will perish because she could not get to them in time? Her eyes shifted to the small display of her Caduceus Staff. It was running low on nanoparticles. The doctor made a mental note to increase its capacity in the future.

At last, Angela arrived at the scene of the explosion. The area immediately surrounding the blast was in a far worse state than the rest of the building. Bodies were singed, glass and who knows what else stuck into their flesh. She had high doubts that she would find any survivors. Parts of the building's roof clung halfheartedly to its foundations, cracks running throughout.

Her heart stopped as she spotted a familiar commander's uniform.

"Jack!" Mercy was by his side in an instant. She felt his charred skin and her eyes widened in surprise. A pulse. It was faint, but it was there...

She drew her Caduceus Staff, granting Morrison his life saving treatment. There was barely enough ammunition in her device to keep him from the jaws of death. He lay there, unconscious, but stable. A large gash ran from his brow to his jaw, now in the first stages of healing. Judging by its size, it would leave a scar.

_Well, Jack was always proud of his striking appearance. She thought bitterly._

There was another movement some distance away. "Hello...?" She called, trying to locate its origin. Could there be other survivors, against all odds?

There was another rustle. Somebody was struggling to surface from under a fallen bench. Mercy rushed over, adrenaline washing away her fatigue. With one swift motion, she toppled the obstruction on its side. There was a sound of shifting debris and cracking cement, and then silence once more.

When she saw what lay underneath, she struggled to hold down the contents of her stomach. Her hands shot up to her mouth.

Half buried in splintered wood and steel was Gabriel Reyes. Part of his abdomen had been ripped open in the explosion. Bits of small intestine poked out of the cavity like thick spaghetti. His bloody torso was littered with shrapnel, giving the man semblance to some macabre Christmas tree.

"Don't tell me that even the famous doctor Ziegler can't look at me." Spluttered Reyes. Half of his face had been ripped off, exposing parts of his jaw muscle. Her gaze was frozen on his leftmost eye, which was hanging by his optical nerve.

"Gabriel... I don't know what to say..." Her throat went dry.

"Tell me you'll patch me up, like you always do." The dark-skinned man stared at her expression in dismay, looking for salvation. Finding none, he began to laugh. _Hysteria. A common response in patients subject to intense shock._

The man sobered up and looked at Angela with pleading eyes. "I can't die here... Not like this. I - " He coughed up a mouthful of blood. "You can do something, can't you? You can fix me up..." His consciousness was beginning to fade.

What could she do? Her Caduceus Staff was out of commission. Nothing short of a miracle could save her friend now. A crackling noise was emitting from the ruins around her, but the medic was too engrossed in her thoughts to notice.

Perhaps she did have a miracle? Angela pulled a small syringe from her pocket. Her newest creation; it could bring a subject back to full health, if used within a minute of death. But it was merely a prototype, and to use it on a living subject, rather than a dead one, could yield unexpected side effects...

On the other hand, she couldn't just let him die. What if it didn't work? What if she could have saved him, but instead watched him perish? Gabriel's voice echoed in her mind.

_'You can do something, can't you?'_

Mercy bit her lip in grim determination. Grasping the syringe, she injected the liquid into Reaper's neck.

"Aaaarggh!" The man began writhing in pain, shoving the Swiss woman back with surprising strength. He clutched his chest, still screaming at the top of his lungs as he tried to block out the burning sensation.

At that moment, the roof which had been steadily cracking finally collapsed, burying them both.

* * *

Mercy awoke with a start, heart pounding in her chest. She had been dreaming of the past again... She sighed, and then stopped short. The contents of her dream reminded her of her current circumstance. _That's right... I was attacked..._

The doctor was in some kind of containment room. It appeared as though her captors had taken the time to fasten a restraint around her neck, its chain keeping her from getting too close to the door. She tugged at it briefly to test its strength before giving up the notion of breaking the links. Instead, she settled for observing the room around her.

The metallic walls appeared to be well aged with the occasional patch of rust. Aside from the camera situated on the ceiling, the only thing in the room with her was a small bucket in the far corner. With nothing more to do than wait, Angela rested her head on her knees and thought.

How long had she been asleep? Where was she? Questions ran through her mind like wildfire, but her prison had no answers to offer.

The sound of approaching footsteps brought her back to the present. The locks on the door were undone, and the heavy door was opened. On instinct, the medic scrambled to her feet and faced the exit.

In the doorway stood a man so large, Angela thought that he might not even make it inside. Despite his large frame, the man shambled in through the bare room and pointed to his feet.

"Get over here."

Mercy stood still, back to the wall. "What do you want with me?"

The man rushed at her, clearly angry. He struck her hard with the back of his hand, sending her flying to the ground.

" _I_ ask the questions around here. Now get up!" He yanked at the chain, forcing her to do as he instructed. The man fastened another smaller chain to her neck before unclasping the first with his key. Seeing that she was in no position to argue, Mercy followed him out the door. Her stomach was filled with unease.

The corridor was long and featureless, almost endless. Suddenly the man made a quick left turn, hauling his prisoner with a strong tug. They broke into a larger chamber that branched off in every direction. There were a few soldiers making their rounds, but otherwise the cavernous room was empty. Angela could tell that this was not their destination, however, and tried her best to keep up with the man's large strides. Eventually they made their way into another hallway. At the sound of distant screams, the doctor froze.

"Did I tell you to stop?" Sneered her captor. He dragged her forward, shoving the blonde into a vacant room.

Inside were various small tables, all of which displayed a collection of tools, from prongs to saws. The wall featured metallic clasps for the hands and feet. There were machines, purpose unknown, circling the center of the room. A furnace burned red-hot in the back, heightening the prisoner's heartbeat.

She was in a torture chamber.

"Oh, Gott..." The blood drained from her face. Forgetting her bindings, she made a break for the door. In an instant, she was slammed against the wall, a heavy blow sent to her stomach. Angela kicked and clawed at the thick skin of the imposing figure above her to no avail, only receiving more abuse in return as the clasps were secured to her limbs.

"Lass mich gehen!" Her voice was silenced by a filthy rag stuffed in her mouth. Soon after, she felt the searing sting of a whip strike her body over and over. Six...seven...eight.. she started to lose count as her mind focused on blocking out the pain. Apparently satisfied, the man removed the gag.

"Let's take this from the top. Your name. _Now._ " His last word was followed by another strike.

"Lara Hochstrasser."

This time the butt end of the whip was bashed across her head, stars dancing in her vision.

"You insufferable twat! You really think that I don't know who you are?" He struck her again. "Answer me!"

Mercy grit her teeth. Even if he already knew the answer, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Besides, it would only delay her pain for a moment, until he asked the next question. She stared at him defiantly. He grinned.

"Let's see how long you can keep this up, woman." He turned, placing the whip on the table and drew out a serrated blade. Taking his time, the man drew the metal across her inner arm, then down her chest, ripping into her flesh steadily as her garments began to tear. With a quick flick of his wrist, he stabbed deep into her leg. The doctor winced, drawing in a sharp breath, but moments later her body began to mend itself. Her torturer registered this with annoyance, until he saw the wound around his knife, unable to close up until the blade was removed.

"Clearly, you're in need of more... rigorous questioning." Grasping the metal ring around her neck, he pried her from the wall with his other hand and brought her towards the center of the room. As they approached, the object which had been previously encircled by machines came into view. A metal chair, embedded with spikes and covered in restraints. The Judas Chair. She had only ever seen the device once in her life, after freeing a victim in Europe during an Overwatch mission.

As soon as the strong arms forced her into the seat, her body lit up with pain from the metal thorns piercing her body. In a way, she was almost grateful for the restraints; every jerky movement of her body only brought on more pain.

Now seated close to the machines, she could see that they were a combination of torture devices from all over the world: Chinese thumbscrews, Tongue Tearers, Lead Sprinklers... Angela shuddered as she watched the torturer begin to hook up the first machine to her leg. Steel claws dug into her shin. The man now weaved her fingers through the thumbscrews one by one.

_Stay strong, Ziegler. Any moment now, and it will be over. It's not like they won't know you're missing..._ She gasped, feeling her leg beginning to twist slowly, but painfully, sideways.

'Your name. Give it to me." Mercy fought down the fear as best she could, bracing herself when she saw her tormentor tighten the first screw. She grimaced, teeth now biting so hard her lip began to bleed. The device wound tighter and tighter, increasing the pain with every twist.

It was almost a relief when her first knuckle crushed.

Fire coursed through her hand as she struggled to hold her resolve. Tears began to form as she saw, to her horror, the second screw begin to tighten. Her middle finger began to go through the motions that the first had succumbed to while her leg commenced signaling its distress to her nerves.

"A-Angela! My name is Angela!" She stammered, unable to help herself as her middle knuckle threatened to burst. Her name... Was it really all that worth hiding?

"There we go. Good little flea." He untwisted the knob just a little. Enough to give the semblance of a reward. The doctor's cheeks flushed with the embarrassment of giving in so easily. "Now tell me what you were doing on that night you were captured last week."

The sentence sank into Angela's mind like a lead weight. _Last week? Have I been out for an entire week? No... I couldn't have been, could I...?_

Grunting with impatience, the man pushed a button at the end of the machine currently twisting her leg. It sped up, pain increasing tenfold.

_Stay strong, don't give in. You can do this..._ She repeated the mantra over and over, until the sound of a sickening crunch reached her ears. The pain of her dislocated knee caused her to snap, her screams echoing through the chamber.

"Don't even think we're close to being done. This is just the beginning."

* * *

Widowmaker stood in front of the imposing doors of the Talon outpost. Just as the Sombra had said, Dorado, too, housed a facility. She clicked her tongue, gazing at the electronic lock at the door. Clearly, this was not just any run-down hideout. If her agency had such a building nearby, why had she been forced to go to the safe house to tend to her wounds? It made no sense. She pressed her finger on the display.

A quick beep sounded from the lock, granting her passage. The assassin strode through the lobby, heels clicking on the steel flooring. It didn't take long for Sombra to find her place by her side.

"Oh, araña! What took you so long? Welcome to mi casa -" She waved her arms exuberantly, before adding with a smirk: "That's French for front door."

"Non. It is not French." Replied Widowmaker in a cold tone. The hacker stifled a laugh.

"You really need to watch a movie or two sometime. What do you even _do_ when you're not on a mission?"

The Frenchwoman shrugged. She had other things on her mind.

"Tell me: Why am I here? Why was I not told about this base for all the times I had been stationed in Mexico?"

Sombra squinted her eyes at her friend, formulating an answer. She had to play this very carefully, or all of her planning would have been for naught. Glancing around the empty chamber to ensure that they were alone, she began to spin her web.

"I heard that you had a change of medication lately."

"Do not try to change the subject." Scowled the assassin.

_This one does not beat about the bush._ "Look, I'll get to the point. Just bear with it for a bit, amiga." She extended her hand. "Give me a look-see."

Widowmaker folded her arms. What was the other woman up to..?

Seeing her hesitation, Sombra sighed and pulled out a small container from her pocket. "Perhaps they look something like this?" In her hand was a container identical to the one in Widowmaker's pocket. The blue-skinned woman instantly brought her hand down to her pocket to make sure it wasn't her own.

"Yes. Why do you have my treatment with you? I'm the only one who takes such pills."

The younger woman flashed a knowing look. "Because I made them. Duh. Anything made in this facility has to go through me first. But I made these with your situation especially in mind." She proceeded to break open the protective coating, licking the white powder within. "It's just sugar, you know. Well, I guess you don't. Not even your 'doctor' knows what the pills are supposed to do."

Widow was in shock. "But... My treatment... Without it, I will die!"

The hacker shook her head. "Tsk, tsk. You think I'd bring you here just to tell you that I swapped your treatment with sugar pills? You don't need the medicine, by the way. That's just Talon lying to you."

"Tais-toi! Talon does not lie to me."

" _Right._ That's why you knew about our base in Dorado. And why you don't even know the truth about your medication." She could tell that the sniper was getting defensive. Sombra decided to tone her voice down a bit. "Here. Come with me. I have something to show you." She beckoned for the older woman to follow.

* * *

Widowmaker gazed through the two way mirror, watching the scene unfold before her. A blonde woman - why did she appear to be so familiar? - was being forcibly submerged in water by the ruthless hand grasping her hair. Her body was covered in blood, although she had no visible wounds. Widow furrowed her brow. Her head was beginning to ache. She had the strangest feeling that she had seen this room before, long ago... Her heartbeat quickened as she watched the man torture his victim.

Sombra grabbed the clipboard mounted on the wall. "This one's a self-healer. Mmhhm.. Looks like she's in for a personality wipe." She accented each word to catch the attention of her guest.

"Personality wipe? What do you mean, chérie?"

Amélie continued to rub her temples, trying in vain to suppress the waves of emotion coursing through her. The Spanish hacker sensed the doubts forming in Talon's most loyal agent. It was time to plant her roots.

"You must be feeling so lost. My poor little spider. You were already forming a tolerance to the behavior suppressants, but now that I've completely stopped their administration, you might actually start to remember. How do you feel... Amélie?"

The words struck a chord in her. She knew that name. She knew it, somehow... "I feel... Cold. Have I been here before?"

"Yes."

"And Talon does not wish me to know this?"

"Yes."

"..." The silence stretched on as Lacroix stared through the screen, and then the woman beside her. Her mind was struggling, connecting the information but not wanting to accept the facts. Her mouth opened, then shut. Clearing her throat again, the sniper addressed her host.

"My performance. It was not linked to my medication? Then why did I hesitate? What is this pain I feel?"

Sombra walked towards her, footfalls slow and deliberate. "You can tell now, can't you? Talon has been lying to you all along. They didn't want you to remember, but even the most advanced brainwashing techniques cannot break the essence of another being. People grow accustomed to their chains, and they break them. And now, you want more. I can give that to you." The hacker continued to advance.

"I - I don't understand." Said Widow, flustered by the sudden proximity. She took a step backwards, shoulders hitting the wall. There was a mischievous smile on the other woman's face.

"What your heart wants is a connection. Companionship. Basic human contact..."

Sombra closed the distance between them, pressing her soft lips against Widow's cold ones. The assassin found herself incapable of anything more than reciprocating the embrace. Her hands fell to her sides as her mind was lost in a feeling she hadn't felt for some time.  
Was this truly what she needed? The Frenchwoman did not know, but she relaxed into the motion nevertheless. Sombra weaved her arm around the other woman's back, pressing their bodies together while she deepened the kiss, easily gaining entry. The hacker's skilled tongue drew out a moan from the cold-blooded agent. Fingers explored with practiced ease, trashing any coherent thoughts the assassin had left. She teased her prey a little more before disengaging. With a satisfied smile, she noted how Widowmaker's eyes clouded with lust. She lent in, lips mere inches from Widow's ear.

"Think hard on my offer, araña. I'll keep in touch."

Widowmaker stood there long after Sombra had left, leaning against the wall for support. Her heart felt like it was about to explode. She lifted her hand to her lips and gingerly brushed them with chilled fingers.

What had she done?

* * *

**Translations:**

**Oh, Gott = Oh, God**

**Lass mich gehen! = Let me go**

**Tais-toi! = Shut up!**

**A/N: To clear up any confusion, Mercy has not been kidnapped for an entire week. Destroying a captive's sense of time is a tactic that can be used to crush a victim's hope of escaping, or mess with their perceptions.**


	6. Chapter 6

****

**Talon outpost, Dorado, Mexico**

Sombra rubbed her eyes, refocusing on the bright screen before her. Lines of code flowed without end, constructing the entity bit by bit. Letting out an exaggerated yawn, the hacker finished the section, clicked the escape key, and let her systems take over. It was only proofreading, anyway.

"I think it's time for a nap. Don't you?" She asked, turning to the aide behind her. He coughed awkwardly.

"But, uh... Mrs - "

She shot him a look. "Sombra. Don't make me feel so old."

"Sombra. You only just started working on the program three hours ago."

The purple-haired hacker let out a laugh, swiveling around in her chair. With a precise jab, she tapped the keyboard and leaned back as music flooded the room.

"Three hours? That's it? Felt like a lot longer than that to me! Why don't you fetch me some coffee and something sweet. I can't work in these conditions. And by the way, amigo," she motioned to the machine "this computer is in need of a major cleanup. Some minor systems may go on and off for a while. If a few things shut down, that's expected. We're working with a delicate system, here. Try not to get lost on your way back." With a quirky wave in the man's direction, she spun back to the screen. Looking a little less than pleased, her assistant left the room to fulfill the request.

Sombra waited for a few minutes before initiating a remote EMP wave. There was a small sizzle from the wall behind her. Allowing herself a self-congratulatory smirk, the Hispanic woman located the camera and destroyed it.

"He thinks he's so clever, getting the rats to spy on me. Heh."

She returned to her seat. Rebooting the system, she switched the camera display to her private side project.

Amélie Lacroix. A cold blooded killer. Cruel. Uncaring. It was impossible to get any leverage on her. But as it turns out, her one weakness was the emotions buried deep within. The timing of her building up a resistance to Talon's mental conditioning couldn't have been any better. She grinned, reviewing the medical reports she had altered:

"The subject continues to be a picture of obedience. Memories remain completely obscure, with no signs of a returning personality."

"The subject has taken to the injections, the amygdala now rendered completely atrophied. A smaller dosage of behavior suppressants is suggested to accommodate this."

"After switching to oral medications, the subject's overall performance and health have improved greatly. It is only a matter of time until the treatments become unnecessary altogether."

Widowmaker hadn't contacted her since her tour of the outpost. She hadn't expected her to; the information the hacker had leaked was bound to have had a profound effect, even if she hadn't dressed it up quite so much. But it was only a matter of time until her prey would want more. For now it was a waiting game - one she knew that she would win. After all, she who holds the information holds all the cards, and the assassin's lack of behavior suppressants only served to make the target easier to manipulate. Sombra took the time to modify a few more files before sitting back and surveying her work. How she enjoyed watching her plans come to fruition...

Her fingers swiped the holo-display, drawing up an older folder. It was time to set her new plan in motion. With no more than a few dozen keystrokes, she was connected to Katya Volskaya. It was amazing, the feats of modern technology.

The woman at the other end did not look pleased.

"What is it you need? I'm on my way to a speech."

"I'm hurt, amiga. _I_ always make time for _you_."

There was a huff at the other end of the line as Volskaya's CEO jotted down a few more notes to the paper she was holding. Sombra continued.

"Look, I'll cut to the chase: we need some information regarding some of Vishkar's tech. But planning such a huge break-in with them already on high alert will be such a pain. So I'm thinking: why not just call up my good friend Katya, and get _her_ to lure out the big shots?"

Katya narrowed her eyes. "And just how do you plan on doing that?"

There was a flash of purple as an encrypted file came into view. "Just hold this over their noses. Request a meeting. I don't know, be creative. The company likes to play it cool, but I know they're itching to get their little toy back. And I suppose their architects add a bit of incentive as well. Oh yeah, here's the summery for the files."

The Russian skimmed the report. "This also details a planned Talon attack on Volskaya Industries. Do you intend to watch me stand idly by as my company falls to ruin?"

Sombra thew her hands up in the air. "Relax, friend. That's a fake. Well, the timing of it, anyway. See, while you lure the directer over with information so sensitive, it can't be sent online, and pleas for Vishkar to help defend against the big, bad terrorist group - which, I may add, they did "single-handily" last week - we'll swoop in and take them by surprise. I'll even make it worth your while. Tell me, friend: is there anyone you just want out of your company, but can't because they're too high profile? Someone you fear is staging a coup, but you just can't prove it?"

"Well, there is our current president, Kozhukov... A power-hungry man. He has his eyes set on my position, no doubt."

"Make sure he's in the meeting. We need casualties on both sides, after all."

Katya nodded solemnly. It's not that she could refuse such a request, even if she wanted to. Besides, having Kozhukov out of the picture would give her the freedom to elect someone more to her taste. Anyone would do the same in her position.

"You will bolster our cyber security for the post-infiltration investigation, I imagine?"

"I take care of my friends. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some things to put in order. Catch you later."

* * *

****

**Three days later, Watchpoint: Gibraltar**

The evening sun beamed down on the grounds of Watchpoint: Gibraltar, bathing the world in its golden glow. Flocks of wagtails tittered about, dodging the shadows as if playing a game. Below, the waves crashed against steep cliffs with a deafening roar.

The scene outside went unnoticed by Winston, who continued to type on his keyboard in a steady manner. The desk around him was a mess - tools and trinkets pushed aside to make room for maps. Reports were laid out in what used to be an orderly line, but soon had become strewn in a jumbled heap. There was even a few coffee rings to add to the chaos of pens and other stationary.

The gorilla groaned in frustration, stretching his arms to grab his cold mug of coffee. Before him, several holographic displays bore security footage of Cancún and the surrounding area. Fueling stations, mostly, but he kept tabs on areas of the border that security tended to overlook. If their last missing persons case was any attestation, Mercy was likely being held nearby.

He swirled the contents of his over-sized mug, going over recent events in his head.

It had been a surprise when Vishkar had first contacted him, asking for Overwatch's protection against the world's most feared terrorist group. He was hesitant, at first. Overwatch activity was and still is illegal in the eyes of the law, but he was assured that with their influence, they would work to combat the Petras Act in return for their cooperation. It would take more than just a single company to change the popular opinion, but it was a start. The world was reaching an apex of violence and tensions. Surely, soon, the world would see them for what they really were: a force of justice and peace. Surely, if they tried hard enough, if they fought hard enough, Overwatch would bring the world back to the peaceful generation it had known in its golden age.

It would take time, but he was hopeful. Winston had just finished a call with Vishkar's negotiator, Sanjay Korpal. According to him, they were scheduled for a meeting with Russia's most powerful security force the next day to discuss plans to combat terrorist attacks. His words rang clear with determination:

'It's a risk, but I plan to tell them exactly who made our defense possible. I think the Volskaya Industry would also be open to the idea of Overwatch involvement. Russia is thankfully beginning to swallow their pride, and I'm sure Miss Volskaya herself can see that accepting help does not equate to admitting defeat.'

There was a small electronic chime from the speaker above his head, pulling his mind back to the present.

"Winston, you are five hours overdue for your evening meal." The AI's voice was steady and cool as always. "In addition, it is recommended that you take a twenty minute break for every three hours spent on the computer. You have not left since- "

"This morning. I know."

Winston peered at the screen, guilt tugging at his heart. He had helped convince the hesitant doctor to rejoin Overwatch, after all. It was hard not to feel at least partially to blame for overlooking the medic's safety.

He sighed, eyeing the empty containers on is desk. "I guess I could do with some more peanut butter..."

"That is no proper substitute for a meal. You know that."

The conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door.

_I wonder who that could be._ He mused, lumbering towards the door. "I'm coming. Just a moment, please."

When he finally got to the door, he found himself face to face with none other than Lena Oxton. She was wearing her trademark orange spandex and bomber jacket, Pulse Pistols at her side. Through the shaded goggles, the gorilla could see heavy bags under her eyes.

"Lena! What are you doing here?"

"I brought you a little something. Hana told me that you missed out on dinner, too." She procured a brown paper bag, handing it to him with a forced smile. Winston peered inside. To his delight, he found a peanut butter sandwich paired with a couple of cookies. But try as he might, he couldn't ignore the lack of bounce in his friend's step.

"Oh, uh... Thanks. You should be outside, though. You look like you could use some fresh air."

"As could you." The brunette replied earnestly. The corners of her mouth dropped as her facade fell away. "I guess there's still no news?"

Winston shook his head. "I'm afraid not. But we're bound to find her, eventually." _If she's still alive..._ He left his doubts unvoiced.

He had a feeling that they both had little hope of finding Mercy any time soon. It had only been a week since her capture, and Talon had bases hidden all over the world. It had taken them a month to find Amélie, and even then she was killed by Talon soon after...

"Winston, if there's anything I could do..." She trailed off.

"I'm afraid not, Lena. It's a rather delicate investigation. Vishkar is working to demolish the Petras Act with their influence, but for now we have to lay low. There's not much you can do until we find out where they've taken Dr. Ziegler."

Tracer clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms in frustration. "I wish there was something I could do, instead of sitting around in the base. It's just hard, you know? It's too bloody hot for a run, and shite, everything outside looked so peaceful, it just wasn't fair."

Her friend put a heavy arm on her shoulder. "I know it's hard, Lena. But in times like this we have to stay calm. We _will_ find her. I promise."

A ringing from the computer behind his back caught Winston's attention. "Oh... I have to get to that. Why don't you run along downstairs, Lena? I heard that Torbjörn arrived at the Watchpoint this afternoon. He must be done unpacking by now."

The young girl's face softened at the prospect of reuniting with an old friend. "Torb is back and you waited this long to tell me? Winston, how could you..?" She chided mockingly before waving him goodbye, backing out the door. "I'll leave you to your work, then. Good luck, big guy."

* * *

**Annecy, France**

Widowmaker gazed down at the lapping waves of Thiou River, the busy streets of Rue de la Gare. Unlike the rest of the world, this quaint little town seemed to be frozen in time, appearance virtually unchanged for almost a century. Atmospheric yellow-green lights lit up the waterfront. Murmurs of conversation hung in the air, overlapping the sounds of passing vehicles. There was something familiar about this place that the assassin just couldn't place.

 _Perhaps I lived here, once._ She thought. She wracked her brain, trying to remember just who she was before joining Talon. _I must have existed, somewhere. I am French; France would have been my home._

But why could she not remember? If Sombra was right and Talon did wipe her memories, why would they? She was always told that Talon did what was necessary to keep her in prime condition. Were they truly lying to her? Why hadn't she bothered think of her past before?

Wdiow's gaze fell to the pill bottle in her pocket. The translucent bottle rattled as she tilted it in her hand. _Sugar pills. Behavior suppressants._

"Arrgh!" Before she could even think on her actions, the sniper had jumped to her feet and threw the bottle into the night. Her head hurt. Why did this balcony feel so...

She closed her eyes, head clutching her temples. She could almost see something, another life. A balcony like this one, and a man... Did she know him?

The blonde she had seen in Dorado, only younger, more joyful.

But then she was older, covered in blood, behind a glass frame. The man was gone. She was in a Talon base.

Perhaps this is why her memories were wiped. Nothing made sense... Who was she? Too confused to be the cold assassin she was known to be, to empty to be the woman she had forgotten. There was too little information. Could the blonde she saw possibly know something more? For now, it seemed a more welcome prospect than contacting the purple-haired hacker. Their last interaction had drawn out something foreign, something she wanted to stay far away from.

It was time for her to head back to Dorado.

* * *

**Watchpoint: Gibraltar**

Tracer zipped through the halls, grateful to at least have something to do besides sit around and torture herself with her thoughts. Though it had been years since she had visited the forge, she knew every nook and cranny. She didn't even bother announcing her arrival when she got to the door. Why would she? She hadn't seen her favorite engineer in ages.

The Britt barreled full speed through the door and almost jumped out of her skin in fright. With a flash of blue she recalled, staring at the wall, dumbfounded.

"Let's try that again!" She chirped nervously. It was just her imagination, right?

Deciding that it was better safe than sorry, she crept up to the door and poked her head inside.

Gazing straight at her was a bastion unit, blue screen flashing as it emitted a few beeping noises. The girl's eyes widened as she opened her mouth to let out a scream when suddenly, a strong hand clapped over her lips.

"Lena! For God's sake, do ya ever knock?"

"Hmph! Mrph!" She cried, pointing at the robot in a panicked fashion.

The large Battle automaton tilted his head to the side before imitating her pose.

"Bweep, bweeep!"

Tracer kept her hands poised at her pistols, eyes flickering from between her friend and the strange robot.

"I'm going to let you go now Lena," The Swedish man started. "but don't worry - he won't shoot at you. Just keep those guns in their holsters. We don't want to scare him."

He slowly released his grip on the confused Overwatch agent. Tracer was at a loss for words. "But... Wha- How...?"

Torbjörn chuckled. "I'm not quite so sure for myself, to tell you the truth. But there's something about this E52 that I want to get to know. So I've taken him in for now." He turned to face the bastion behind him. "Say hello, you tin can."

The robot, who had been cooing at the yellow Ganymede on his shoulder, waved a metallic hand at Tracer.

"Beep beep bwoop bwop!"

Not knowing what else to do, Lena hesitantly waved back. "Uh... Nice to meet you...?"

"Bwoop bweeeeeee!"

Torbjörn shook his head with an amused smile. "I'm trying to work on his speech. I know they weren't designed for human language, but - well, let's just say I'm expecting much more than just another Battle automaton out of this bucket of bolts."

Time went by as the two caught up with each other again, slowly bridging years of being apart. Even if it would only last a few hours, it was good to be in another world, far from all the troubles outside. A world where Omnics and humans could coexist in harmony.

_Maybe one day, it'll be like this everywhere..._ Lena thought, as the sleepless nights finally caught up to her.

* * *

**Talon outpost, Dorado, Mexico**

It had been eighteen days since her capture. Or at least, so said her captors. She didn't want to trust them; misinformation was a common tactic deployed by perpetrators of torture, but with no clocks or windows to indicate the passing days it was impossible to keep track. Between torture sessions she was placed in a sensory deprivation room, only further warping her perception of time. All that she could do was hold out as best as she could and pray that her friends will find her before it was too late.

Mercy felt utterly helpless. Every time she entered the torture chamber, her resolve weakened. She was ashamed to think that she had already let slip some of her research, although she tried adding as much false information as she could get away with. So far she kept the enemy from learning anything about her nanoparticles, but...

Her mind wandered to the events in the torture chamber. The interrogations. The attempts to alter her way of thinking. She could tell that they were trying to break her, make her lose parts of her identity. How long could she hold out? Her body allowed her to take so much more pain than anyone else. Her broken bones would mend, only to be broken again. Outside the sessions, she was robbed of her senses, unable to see, hear or feel. She sighed.

"What'cha sighing about, luv?"

The Swiss woman didn't even need to look up to know what she would see - or at least, what her mind would make her see. She was wearing a blindfold, after all. The first time that it had happened she was overjoyed that her friend had finally found her. The second, she was convinced that she was simply dreaming. But at this point she knew what the hallucinations meant: the torture was finally getting to her. With no kind face to speak to, her mind drew up its own. Nevertheless, it was a welcome sight. Friendly company in a hostile world, even if it wasn't real.

_I don't know how much more of this I can take. Am I really going to be here forever?_ She thought, the gag over her mouth rendering her unable to talk.

"Just relax, luv. We'll find you. Just you wait." The young Brit stood there with a face full of confidence. Confidence she knew was only there as a coping mechanism for her mind.

_Can we talk about something? Anything but this. I could use the distraction._

"Alright. Anything you want, Bärchen."

_Since when do you speak German?_ She jested, despite knowing the answer. The girl before her was ultimately a figment of her imagination. She knew everything she did. The brunette just smiled sadly.

"So what do you want to talk about, luv?"

Angela furrowed her brow. _I'd prefer it if you called me by my name._

"Yeah? What's your name?"

The blonde inhaled sharply, the question repeating itself in her mind: _'What's your name?'_ The answer was at the tip of her tongue. Her name..? She couldn't have forgotten... After a few harrowing moments, the answer made its way into her brain.

_Angela! My name is Angela!_ She screamed in her mind. The vision was gone, but she kept repeating the words, intent on keeping them. Her tears ran down her face as the meaning of the conversation hit her. She couldn't lose herself here. Where was everyone?

**Bärchen = little bear (term of endearment)**

**A/N: I know that Ganymede isn't a real species of bird, but since it's a made up species I'm using his name as the species name.**


	7. Chapter 7

****

**Watchpoint: Gibraltar**

Tracer watched as her friend hobbled down from the podium, now finished with his formal adress.

 _Formalities really aren't his thing._ She thought as he made his way off the stage.

Scattered cliques still milled about, discussing the shocking news; the director of Vishkar's Technologies department had been kidnapped in a terrorist siege on Russia's defence lines, along with the president of Volskaya Industries. As of now their primary focus was to find and rescue both hostages, for the sake of their current and potential allies. While the infiltration had wrecked countless anti-omnic machines, it seems the Volskaya company still needed some convincing to take the leap of faith.

The brunnette made her way over to the side of the stage. She blinked over to the Overwatch leader in a flash of blue, coming face to face with the gentle gorilla.

"Hey, Winston! That was a pretty good speech. Really stirred some people up. Got any particular place in mind where they're keeping the hostages?"

Winston gave her an inquisitive look. "Like I told everyone else, Athena did manage to analyze what little data we have. It was confirmed that they have indeed been taken to Mexico, but exact locations are still obscured in encrypted parts of the stolen transmissions. Although with this new algorithm that we've inputted into Athena's quantum dual core, I... Uh... "

He paused, seeing the confused look the pilot was giving him and sighed. "To answer your question: No, Lena. Not yet. But it is good to see you starting to bounce back again."

A little embarrassed, Tracer gave the ground a small kick. "Sorry big guy... All that tech talk just speeds past me. But I'm glad we have a game plan to get my mind off things a bit. And like you said, Talon must be keeping Ange in the same place. So if we find those blokes, we can rescue our medic, too."

"I did say it was hypothetical, but yes. It is likely."

The conversation was cut short at the appearance of one of Overwatch's envoys, signaling to the duo that something had come up. He made his way over and began to deliver his message.

"Sir, there's someone here to see you."

"Who is it? I was on my way to check up on a new decoding program."

"I don't know, sir." He said sheepishly. "Both of them refused to provide proper ID. We have shown them to the guest room for now."

"Both? So there's more than one?"

"A man and a woman, sir."

Winston scratched his head. "How curious... Let me meet with these strange guests."

He motioned for the messenger to lead the way and made to follow him. However, before he could make his way through the door, Tracer gave his suit a small tug. The unusual motion stopped him in his tracks.

"Winston..." The British girl started. "We don't even know who these people are. Shouldn't we be careful after all the recent Talon attacks? I don't think I can stand to lose any more members of my family... Let me come with you? Please?"

The scientist considered his friend for a moment. In truth, he could definitely understand the foundations of her fears.

"Alright. Just so long as you don't scare our visitors away with those guns."

A relieved smile bloomed on Lena's face. "Me? I think they'd be scared of you more than anything, even with that bleeding heart of yours!"

The pair made their way into the hall, towards the guest room. It wasn't long until they arrived at the entrance of the dainty holding.

To the untrained eye, it was a small, out of the way room where visitors could relax in peace, away from the rather noisy lobby. But the room was more functional than it appeared; hanging plants housed hidden cameras, keeping a watchful eye on new guests. The doors, too, were fully equipped with a lock-down mode in case of emergency. Despite the precautions they had to take, however, neither of the Overwatch agents felt that they would be necessary when they spotted what appeared to be an elderly couple seated inside.

Winston was the first to speak.

"Hello, there. I'm Winston, current leader of Overwatch. How may I help you?"

He swept his eyes over the odd strangers, assessing them for any threats.

The man closest to the entrance had snowy white hair that receded slightly down the middle. His mask and visor covered much of his face, but failed to completely hide a deep scar running from his brow to beneath his coverings. His tri-coloured jacket and combat wear was unmistakable: this was the vigilante known only to the world as Soldier:76.

The woman behind him was stranger still. Full hood and bodysuit, completed with a full face mask and carbon fiber cape. The only indication of her age fell on the handful of stray hairs poking out from beneath the hood.

Despite their imposing appearance, neither of them were carrying weapons of any kind. Noting this, the Gorilla visibly relaxed.

"Still as trusting as ever, I see." Muttered Soldier, shaking his head. "Only a fool would meet with a stranger who refused to give away his identity."

Tracer scowled at the man, annoyance clear on her face. "And just who are you, then, to be talking so snobbish to him?" She was stopped by the masked figure, who held up her hand.

"Quiet, now. The adults are talking." Chided the elderly woman from across the room. Lifting her teacup to her face, she gazed at the murky brew. "I can't believe we still serve this to our guests. There must be better teas on the market. And Jack, we came here to stop a war, not start one."

Something in the woman's voice struck the duo as familiar, but they just couldn't place it. Winston cleared his throat and tried again.

"I think an introduction is in order, if you will. I do know you, of course, " He started, nodding to 76, "but only by your alias. As to the other one, I don't believe we've met. And yet you address the facilities in a familiar manner. Who are you?"

After a brief silence, the man stood up and removed his mask, motioning to the woman to do the same.

"How about an old comrade?" Asked Jack, locking eyes with the scientist.

Tracer looked on in pure shock, taking in both faces. Before her stood Jack Morrison and Ana Amari, two old Overwatch commanders who had been until now, well... Deceased.

Ana pulled her lips into a light, world-weary smile before speaking.

"Come, sit. We have much to discuss."

* * *

**Talon Outpost, Dorado, Mexico**

Widowmaker stepped into the chamber containing the prisoner she was looking for. She closed the door behind her, taking in the dull atmosphere; soundproofed walls, a camera; it was a very minimalistic cell. The scheme very different from the high-tech facilities up on the main floors.

She approached the figure before her who was bound in the center of the room, blindfolded and deafened with a tube stuffed down her throat. Her nose crinkled in disgust at the uretic catheter trailing down to the bag near the seat's bottom.

The prisoner seemed to be muttering to herself, like she was sleep talking. The words were muffled by the feeding tube, but Widow could pick up the scattered word here and there.

The assassin firmly grasped the prisoners face with one hand, eliciting a gasp from the blonde. With the other she slowly withdrew the feeding tube. Mercy spluttered, her coughs falling dead on the concrete walls. She then proceeded to tear off the woman's blindfold and removed the device over her ears.

"No!" Screamed the blond, eyes still shut. Widowmaker's cold fingers tightened their grip, forcing her face upwards.

"Open your eyes." She commanded.

Angela's lashes fluttered open tentatively, jaw dropping in surprise. "A-Amélie...?"

The name piqued the sniper's interest. "Oui. It is me. Talk to me, chérie."

"Amélie... I think we're in a Talon base. They keep doing terrible things to me. I can't believe that they captured you, too. Don't worry, Gérard is on his way. Your husband would never leave you to die in here. Overwatch will find us." She gazed at the blue-skinned woman, taking her in.

"Amélie? What happened to you?"

Widowmaker dropped her grip on the woman, backing away. Her head began to hurt again as memories started to make their way past her. She recalled a man, an apartment with a balcony... Hooded men taking her away, a funeral, watched from afar... And a snowy tombstone bearing a single rose. She shook her head.

"Non. I was never a part of Overwatch... You lie to me!" Overcome, she raised her hand in anger, only to feel the warmth of another grip her wrist from behind.

"Ah, ah. Not so fast, chica."

She turned to see Sombra standing behind her with a smirk. She lowered both of their hands, shaking her head.

"Tsk, tsk. You shouldn't hit a lady with her hands bound." She walked up to the blonde, examining the nail marks on her face. "Ay, pobrecita!"

The hacker took the time to adjust the bindings, slipping the equipment back on. The blindfold dampened as tears began to stain the cloth, mouth whimpering at the state of deprivation.

Widowaker scowled. "Why are you here?"

Sombra stared straight into the eyes of the assassin, sending a small round of shivers to course through her.

"I missed you, araña. Do you not feel the same?" A gentle hand swept over her blue cheek. Again, she felt that unpleasant foreign feeling, and slapped the hand away.

"Ouch! A feisty one!" Exclaimed the hacker in mock pain. "Okay, I get it: you want answers. But why go through the trouble of asking a deluded prisoner? Her mind isn't even stable at this point. She's useless to you. So why not come to me, then? I can provide everything you could ever need, or want." Her hand slipped back around the French woman's arm, drawing her close.

The widow considered her options for some time, but found no other way to obtain the information she desired.

"D'accord. But don't think that this is for anything more than information..."

Sombra began to lead her prey from the chamber. "Come on. I know of a more comfortable place than this dreary cell. I will tell you everything that I've found out in my time hacking the main database. And about your recent emotional growth."

"Emotional growth?"

"The reason for all your... 'shortcomings' as of late. See -" She paused, hands reaching up to the communication chip in her ear.

"One moment. Gabe is on the open channel."

* * *

"What?"

Reaper flinched as Sombra's voice snapped through the device in his ear, clearly displeased.

"Someone's unhappy. Don't you remember? You were supposed to have dropped the security cameras ten minutes ago. What's the hold up?"

The Hispanic woman groaned. "I was _busy,_ Gabe! But fine. Cameras offline." With a flick of her hand, she activated her pre-programmed camera hack, blocking the signal from reaching Helix Security offices. She reactivated her communicator once more. "Lights are out for an hour. You have until then before the footage stops looping."

The cloaked terrorist gave his signal and stood in position. _Now we wait._

Reaper scanned the drop before him leading downward to a large steel facility. Fences, barbed and electrified, surrounded the area. Security bots passed every exit in pairs at seemingly random times. The inside of the base was hidden behind thick walls of steel, but his intel told him of maze-like corridors and almost flawless security. Almost.

Tapping his foot impatiently, he checked the time. How much longer would he have to sit here? Reyes considered briefly sucking the life energy from an unsuspecting Helix personnel, but ultimately decided against it.

Moments later, the back doors to the facility opened, letting pass an imposing guard. The man checked the immediate area before making his way up the hidden ladder to where Reaper was standing. Swiftly, he approached the terrorist.

"It's about time." Growled Reaper. 

The man bit his lip, handing him a package and a file folder   
"It's all that I could do, considering the sudden change in schedule. Even security personnel can't move freely in this suffocating place."

The Talon agent placed the items in his robe, the object seemingly vanishing into thin air. "Our hacker was slacking on the job. The cursed girl has been getting too cheeky as of late. I assume everything else is good to go?"

"All is as planned. We have both our agents making preparations as we speak."

"Good."

The sun was only just peeking above the horizon, outlining the figures with a sinister light. Reaper stood above the maximum security prison, gazing down from his position on the cliffside.

"Not long, now... Soon, it will begin anew."

* * *

**Watchpoint: Gibraltar**

Tracer sat in a group that just days ago would have seemed impossible. Across from her sat Jack Morrison, former commander of Overwatch, and Ana Amari, the world's greatest sniper.

"It's, uh... Nice to see you again, 'cap." Her words came out in an awkward flurry, as if she was once more just a cadet.

The elderly woman sipped her tea, giving the girl a curt not. "I'm sure you have plenty of questions. We will both answer them as best as we can, but I will caution you; we don't have much time."

"Huh?" Interjected the Brit. "But you only just got here!"

Winston gave a hum of agreement. "I was under the impression that you had come to reclaim leadership of Overwatch when you revealed your identity to me. Goodness knows, we could use your help."

The aged soldier shook his head. "No. As much as people might want me to, I still have other things on my agenda. As such, I'll ask that you keep my identity within these walls." He paced back and forth as he continued.

"Ever since the fall of Overwatch, I've been tracking down Talon from the shadows, preventing them from taking advantage of our unused technology, and taking down the ones responsible for tearing us apart... And along the way, we uncovered something terrible."

He then nodded to Ana, who withdrew a small chip from her cloak pocket. Pushing the button, she placed it on the table, the device producing a holographic display. There was a brief, tense silence before she spoke.

"Talon appears to be working on a God program. A self-learning one at that. A program unlike any other we have seen before."

Tracer and Winston let out a gasp. Everyone knew the capacity of God programs - countless wars have been waged trying to quell them. With tensions already so high between the nations, or even _within_ the nations, the world could easily slip into chaos.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Cried Winston. "We have to stop them!"

Ana let out a sigh. "It won't be that easy. We don't know exactly where they are keeping all the data, or just how extensive the code is. We do know, however, that much of it seems to be coming from a hidden Talon base in Mexico. But the place is a fortress, and a tower nearby acts as a signal jammer to thwart any information leaks. To charge in there alone would be suicide... And so we thought to come here."

"Furthermore," said Soldier 76, "Our database reports that Talon is holding various hostages there. We don't know what they would do to them in an all-out attack."

At the mention of hostages, Tracer's heart skipped a beat.

"Hostages? Blimey... Winston, you don't think...?"

"It's a possibility, but I have to admit the chances are slim."

Soldier76 looked between the pair, giving them a questioning look. "Something I should know?"

"There have been a series of kidnappings, all organized by Talon lately." Started the gorilla. "The most recent being the director of Vishkar's Technologies department, who we have confirmed to be currently held somewhere in Mexico, and not long before then... Dr. Angela Ziegler."

"How long ago was this?"

Tracer wrung her hands in her lap. "About ten days ago..."

Morrison walked up to the young pilot, putting a hand on her shoulder. "If she was taken in Mexico, there's a good chance that this base is the one she's being held in. Talon doesn't like to move their prisoners around much once they've been secured... Most of them aren't fit for travel."

She shuddered at the connotation of the words, but nevertheless there was hope. The older couple rose from their seats, Jack returning the mask to his face. Now with most of his features hidden, he made his way to the exit.

Handing a map to Winston, he gave the scientist a nod. "We still have some preparations to do. We'll meet with you at the time and place on the map. If you need me, you can contact me through the emergency channel of my com. I think I have enough data written down to let you assess how many men to bring with you. Just remember: stealth is of utmost importance."

Seeing him go, Tracer piped up. "Wait! you'll be back, right?"

The former commander gave a chuckle. "Heh. Maybe one day, kid. But I have to say, you guys don't seem to be doing too bad without me."

With that he exited the room, motioning Ana to follow. As she reached Tracer's side, she stopped, catching the brunette's attention.

"Oxton. Since the recall, have you seen my little habibti?"

"You mean Fareeha? She's in charge of my platoon..."

"I see." Replied the Egyptian. She shuffled around the contents of her pocket and withdrew a crumpled envelope. She placed the paper in Tracer's hands. " I figured that she might have come here, after disappearing from Helix Security. She had always dreamed of being stationed here... Would you mind handing this to her?"

The younger girl accepted the envelope, locking eyes with the sniper. "Sure. But don't you think you should give it to her yourself?"

"She will understand. I have to be on my way, now. Until next time, Oxton."

With that she made her way into the packed lobby, mask re-positioned and cloak drawn over her frail shoulders, vanishing from their sights.

* * *

**Translations:**

**"Ay, pobrecita! = Poor thing!**

**D'accord = Ok.**


	8. Chapter 8

****

**Talon outpost, Dorado, Mexico.**

Lights blinded the Swiss captive as she opened her eyes. She gazed around the open chamber, trying to place just where she was. Bare feet curled on the cold vinyl flooring, folding inwards towards her minimally clothed frame.

She looked down at her right wrist. A tight metal armband had been fastened around it. The blonde began to pick at the edges of the white and black bar code decorating the surface of the accessory.

The door to the room opened, granting passage to Talon's most gifted hacker. She closed the door behind her, eyes scanning the room.

"Ah, so you're still alive after all. And here I was beginning to worry."

Sombra walked up to the prisoner, inspecting her. Apparently satisfied, she walked back to the door and began to use the digital interface beside it.

"Even the comfiest prisoner rooms here seem dull, no? It's upstairs where the infrastructure becomes more elaborate. Shame you won't be seeing it, though. If I'm right, you have guests coming to see you today."

She paused in her work, glancing back at the empty look the captive was giving her. Sombra rolled her eyes.

"You're not even fully awake yet, are you? Figures. After what they did to you last night, who can blame you? Hmm... It looks like your personality rewrite is scheduled to start today. Your friends really have impeccable timing. Hold this for me, will you?"

The hacker hung a chain around the other woman's neck. On the end of the necklace was a purple and black flash drive, the face of which depicted a pastel purple skull.

"Well, I must be going. I'd stay, but I have a date with a certain little spider of mine. I think I better clear out before the party starts."

She turned, typing in a few words on the touchscreen. The door slid open with a faint swish. The blonde looked up, opening her mouth for the first time.

"...Thank you."

Sombra hesitated, feet still at the door frame. Without turning, she said just a little sadly: "Don't thank me. I'm one of the bad guys. Catch you around, chica."

* * *

"Oxton. You in position?"

The voice buzzed through her communicator chip, the stern voice of Soldier: 76 filled with pre-battle tension. Tracer looked behind her towards her teammates, Genji and Symmetra, who were crouched with her in their hiding spot near the side of the base's entrance.

"Aye, aye!"

The Overwatch agent went over the attack plan in her mind; first, Genji, Symmetra, and herself would infiltrate the base under the cover of a nearby distraction, locating and freeing any prisoners they could find. With the safety of the hostages secured, they would then be able to comb the enemy base for information regarding the developing God Program freely, radioing the information to the rest once the signal jam had been taken care of. The mission plan ended with a siege on the building, disabling any opposition. If all goes well, there would be one less Talon base in the world to worry about.

The chip activated once more, directing her attention to Morrison's voice.

"I read you. Just remember, once you get inside there will be no radio communication until Shrike brings down the interference tower. The rescue mission is important, but if you get caught, there will be no way for us to know."

On the other end of the line, the Brit could hear a strong kick and subsequent clatter. She puffed up her chest.

"I won't let you down. Tracer, over and out!"

There was little time to think about anything else before an explosion sounded out in the distance - the distraction that they had been waiting for.

"It would seem that our allies have made their move. It should not be long now." Stated Genji calmly.

Sure enough, the door leading into the enemy base opened, letting loose a troop of armed Talon security agents.

As the last of them ran towards the commotion, Tracer blinked behind the metal door seconds before it closed. Her two allies remained poised in their positions, weapons at the ready in case any soldiers returned.

There was a beep at the other end of the armored walls, and the heavy door slid open once more.

"Pretty cool, right?" She beamed, hands on her hips with a triumphant smile.

The three of them made their way inside, Genji gazing up at the disabled security camera, smoking after the abuse dealt to it by his companion's Pulse Pistols. There were no guards in sight, having presumably all been drawn out by the explosion in the courtyard.

Symmetra rounded the corner to a nearby supply closet, setting up her defenses. "We do not have much time. It won't be long before the terrorists discover that the explosion was no accident. I will remain here as planned to guard the way out."

A faint blue glow began to emit from the corner of the room as the teleporter opened up. The two Overwatch agents nodded to each other before parting down the forked passageways ahead.

* * *

Ana steadily made her way through the dense forest undergrowth, keeping her eyes and ears open for any threats. So far, she had only come across a single guard making routine rounds. He was easily dispatched before even noticing her presence.

The ease of which she could sneak around such a seemingly impenetrable base sent a wave of suspicion through the Egyptian's mind. Surely, the base used to be more heavily guarded?

Now in view of the interference tower, Ana set up her sniper rifle. At her signal, the troops she had waiting by the tower's shadow lobbed a small EMP grenade at one of the nearby generators, drawing the attention of the Talon agents. With deadly accuracy, Ana picked the soldiers off as they descended the ladder, leaving the area free of its defenses.

She climbed up the ladder with haste, her unit standing guard below. From her vantage point in the air, she could make out several troops engaging in battle with Morrison's hired mercenaries. By the looks of things, they didn't have long before Overwatch stepped in to prevent too many unnecessary casualties.

Now in the control room, she turned her attention to the interference projector before her. The machine itself was simpler than she had expected; while the tower's operation system acted as an advanced output device itself, the cloaking device was a separate part of the system.

"It looks as if I won't have to resort to violence, after all." She mused out loud, switching off the interference signal with the press of a few buttons.

The screen above her, which previously displayed nothing but various security reports, flickered. A loading bar flashed, followed by a notice: _Message sent._

Before she had time to investigate further, however, the sound of increasingly heavy gunfire tore her mind from the machine.

* * *

Tracer stopped dead in her tracks at the sound emitting from her communicator chip. She had only just made it into some sort of weaponized vehicle hangar when the signal came through.

_Captain Amari must have disabled the tower._ She thought, opening the file sent to her through a private channel. The device projected a small hologram before her. Confused, she shifted the file, the display reacting to her touch. A small note popped up:

****

**You can thank me later.**

The note was signed with a pixelated skull of some sort. Tracer furrowed her brow. _Huh... That's funny..._

Her eyes widened as the message closed, unveiling a map of... Wait. Was this the facility they were in?

She scanned it, matching the details to the passages she had already explored. Everything added up. Her attention veered to the bottom corner of the display, and icon pointing to the lower floors.

"Prisoner holdings... Blimey..."

Loud footfalls echoed suddenly in the tunnel before her. Ducking behind the nearest vehicle, she watched as several units of soldiers hurried past.

"It looks like those vigilante idiots have come back to mess with our supplies again. Let's give 'em a taste of their own blood!"

"Damn it! Of all times for our camera staff to slack off!"

"Hurry up before I stick you from behind!"

The voices soon fell into the distance, Tracer breathing a sigh of relief. Despite the threat having passed, she still gave a quick start when she heard Ana's voice in her ear.

"The tower is down. Interference signals have been cancelled. Rescue team, what is your status?"

The voices of her teammates rang clear through the shared channel.

"All goes according to plan..."

"I have encountered a few soldiers, but I have yet to find the hostages."

Lena piped up, adding her own voice to the mix. "All good so far, luv! I think I found out where they're keeping everyone; I'll send the map your way. I'm on my way down there!"

She sent a copy of the files she received to the rest, sprinting down the shortest route available. As it turns out, she had been heading in the opposite direction. The holding was actually relatively close to the barracks by the way that they came in.

When Tracer arrived at the prisoner's quarters, she was surprised to find Genji already there, one man barely conscious slung over his shoulder.

"Greetings, Tracer. Thanks to your message, I have managed to secure some of the hostages already. Although, some had already left this world before I had arrived." His masked face looked to the ground. The brunette swallowed.

"C'mon... We'll have these people out in no time!"

Her teammate nodded, and they proceeded to free the cells one by one.

* * *

The sound of bullets rang clear through the air. Beyond the gate that separated the Talon base from the outer area, bodies littered the ground. Both sides traded blows from the edges of cover. Though cautious due to the casualties brought on by Ana's sniping, the terrorists were slowly gaining ground on the group with their more numerous resources and sheer numbers.

Soldier: 76 fired off a few more rounds at the encroaching Talon forces. He watched as they fell, using the brief decrease of enemy fire to try pushing in once again. He stepped forward, only having to dodge back again to avoid an incoming bomb.

"Hehehehehe... Can't catch me now!" Screamed a maniacal voice from the top of the outer wall. A noise not unlike a car alarm went off as a particularly powerful blast took the lives of multiple soldiers, friend and foe alike. "Outta the way, you ratbags! This one is mine!"

Another volley of bombs came crashing down, sending bits of earth and peat flying into the air.

Morrison cursed. It was impossible to land a shot on the lunatic lobbing bombs from such a defensive position.

"For God's sake, can somebody please take out that maniac throwing bombs at us?!" He roared into the radio.

The voice of Fareeha Amari came back to him. "I'm on it. Lend me some cover fire."

The former Overwatch commander nodded. "Affirmative." He signaled to his troops to ready for an attack. As the opposing force looked to the skies, Soldier: 76 jumped out from behind his cover.

"Tactical visor activated!"

Rockets and bullets rained down relentlessly at the troops, Ana assisting from a distance. A few soldiers at Morrison's side fell to the ground clutching their wounds, but the team carried on. Countless Talon agents were vanquished by the combined attacks. Bombs began flying in all directions, the junker trying in vain to reach the looming threat.

As one of Pharah's concussive blasts sped towards him, Junkrat clicked the switch on his detonator, sending him flying through the air towards their ranks.

"Hahahaha! Surprise!" he cried, unleashing some more bombs. "You'll never catch me! Not in a million years, you won't!"

They watched as he slowly, but surely, fell from the sky in a crazy act of self-preservation. He fell down, still laughing, into a pit of sand as the bemused Overwatch agents looked at each other in surprise. The bulk of them resumed fighting the rest of the Talon agents. The soldiers closest to Junkrat circled the man, guns pointing at him as his face froze in realization.

"Uh oh... Now this is quite the stitch..."

But the shocked stupor didn't last long, and soon his face lit up with mirth as he tore a scrap of cloth off his abdomen, revealing a bright red button. "Now, now, mates... You take one step closer and I blow this whole base thingy to smithereens! I press this button, and it all comes crashing down in a matter of five itty bitty minutes! I mean, I was _supposed_ to wait for you to all get inside, but that's not stopping me from doing it right now! Don't move an inch!"

His eyes jumped from soldier to soldier like a rabid animal, glaring at each and every one of them. Then, as if pulling some glorious prank, he bared his teeth again and slammed his fist on the button, dissolving in a fit of laughter.

"Hahahaha! It looks like this place'll go 'kaboom!' after all! Ahahahaha!"

The crowd pressed in, raising their guns once more.

"Ah! Wait, wait!" Cried the Aussie, raising both hands in the air. "Stop, don't shoot! I just did this for the money, I swear! And I have two whole bundles of explosives ready to go off if I bite it and - "

His words were cut off when a sleep dart hit its mark in the side of his neck, sending the trigger-happy terrorist to the ground.

* * *

Tracer wiped her brow. The physical labour of escorting the prisoners, the bulk of which could hardly stand on their own, was taking its toll. The young Brit, however, was determined to get them all out. She rounded the corner of the hall to a series of a few newer looking rooms. She slid the lever on the door only to find the inside empty.

She knew that it was unlikely for every room to be filled, but Lena couldn't stop the faint feeling of disappointment every time she opened a door to an empty room. Especially now that they seemed to be nearing the last of them. Was she too late? Was Mercy even here?

_Well, better than another bloody corpse... How could anyone do such cruel things to another person...?_

She turned her attention to the next door. Grasping the handle, she pulled with all her might. The metal slid open with a smooth grace as her eyes went wide, pupils glued to the woman in front of her.

Angela.

It was her.

"Ange! Ange, luv, I can't believe you're alright!" Lena could scarcely hold back her joy as she raced to the angel that held her heart. She held her close in a tight embrace. "Angela... I missed you so much. You're going to be alright now. We've come for you..."

She stared directly into the sky blue orbs she loved so much, the blonde gazing back at her with curiosity.

And then out came a string of words that hit her like stone.

"...Who are you?"

Tracer's jaw dropped in disbelief. Her hands fell to her sides as her mind struggled to process the words.

"Ange, it's me... You.. You really don't remember?"

Mercy shook her head blankly.

_How is this even possible?_

"You... You can call me Lena." She choked, feeling tears prick her eyes. She bit her lip, tasting warm drops of blood as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. "Come on, luv, let's get you out of here."

She gripped the porcelain hands of the medic, lifting her to a standing position. As she did, the urgent voice of Soldier: 76 boomed in the line of communication.

"Tracer, Genji, Symmetra... All of you, get out of that building, STAT! The cursed thing is about to blow in five minutes! I repeat, get out here, now, or you're all going to be buried alive!"

The blood ran cold in Tracer's veins. She tightened her grip on Mercy's hand.

"Listen to me, Ange: We have to get out of here, fast. I'm going to pick you up and things might get a bit weird... But I promise you we'll make it out alive, even if it's the last thing I do."

Seemingly understanding the seriousness of the situation, Mercy nodded. Tracer picked her up - had she always been this light, or was that just the adrenaline? - and bolted as fast as her legs could carry her, blinking as often as she could within the limits of her accelerator.

Though she and Genji had fought down many Talon agents in the halls, there were still some patrolling the area. They raised their weapons, preparing to shoot.

"Bollocks. I don't have time for this... Hold on, luv!"

She jumped into the air, blinking mid-jump to effectively teleport over the enemy ranks. She had just reached the top of the stairway when one of the enemy bullets ripped into her back.

"Aarg..!" She gritted her teeth, trying her best to bear the pain. There was no time to rewind now. The person in her arms looked at her with great concern.

At last, they reached the supply room which held their way out. Symmetra stood at its side, urging her on.

"We must move quickly. I will close the teleporter once we have reached the other side."

"What about Genji?"

"He has already made it through." She replied.

Relieved, Tracer followed her through the teleporter.

The three of them made it outside just in time. As the teleporter closed, a roar erupted as the entire building in the distance collapsed. With most of the base underground, it resembled a monstrous sinkhole consuming the fort, wreckage spewing into the air. A large gust tore over the field and into the jungle, hurling chunks of concrete and iron into the protective wall around the base. Exhaustion consuming her, Tracer sank slowly to the ground and put down the woman in her arms.

"I...Did it.. You're safe, luv.." She panted with a smile. Feeling suddenly dizzy, the Overwatch agent collapsed on the soft, loamy ground.


	9. Chapter 9

****

**Overwatch Airship, somewhere over the North Atlantic**

Lena slowly fluttered in and out of consciousness, the steady tone of the nearby heart monitor helping to guide her back to reality. It didn't take long for the Brit to realize that she was aboard an Overwatch aircraft. The monitor bore the same circular logo as the rest of the machines back at Gibraltar. She sat up, slowly working out the kinks in her stiff neck. One by one, Tracer removed the electrodes clinging to her chest after putting the machine on stand-by, grateful that all the time she used to spend in the med bay proved useful.

 _On that note,_ She thought, _where's Angela, anyhow?_

She looked around the pristine medical chamber. The half-drawn curtains let in clear streams of sunlight, hitting the ragged bed like a beam. A small table with some medical supplies, a cabinet, and empty seat beside her bed...

It felt odd not to see Angela at her side after waking up from an injury. Odd to see the blonde absent from double-checking the graphs, or just out of sight, straightening some apparatus or another. Any excuse to linger, to be the first to see her wake.

But things were different now.

_Right. There'd be no reason for her to be here after... That._ Tracer mulled. She recalled the blank look on the doctor's face. Everything about the scene just seemed so _wrong._

Tracer shook her head. Regardless of how much the Swiss woman remembered, she still wanted to see her. She wanted to make sure the medic was alright, and to be honest, she wanted to make sure it hadn't all been a dream. The brunette removed the IV drip from her hand and tried to get her bearings.

They must have brought her on board the main relief vessel due to her injuries. It was a lot bigger than the standard Overwatch Millitary Transport ship, but Lena knew the general layout of pretty much every plane in the skyspace. Even with the limited medical staff allowed on board the flight, she was surprised that no one had been there when she woke up.

"Might as well see where everyone's off to." The girl said aloud to no one in particular.

As she approached the central hub of the aircraft, Tracer could hear quiet voices arguing among one another.

"Surely, the analysts at Vishkar would suffice? Our director is needed at his department for more than a few urgent developments." Came the cold tone Tracer recognized as Symmetra's.

"Mr. Malviya will have to go through our security protocols before leaving the protection of Overwatch, same as everybody else. Talon is known for its Trojan tactics, and I want to ensure all of us get home safely- And stay that way." Was Morrison's reply.

Ana's voice joined the fray. "It should be easy enough. Most of the hostages are in somewhat stable condition. We will simply be assessing them for any psychological abnormalities, after which they will be free to go. Although, if more of them are in the same troubling state as the doctor, it may take some time to fully gauge the risk of the release."

It was then that Tracer stepped forward into view. "What do you mean? Why do we have to 'assess' the people we just rescued?"

There was a brief moment of silence during which the three of them gazed at the interloper. The former commander gave her a fond look.

"It's good to see you up, soldier. We were a little worried, when we had seen how much blood was lost during your mission."

"What's wrong with just letting the hostages go back home? And where's Angela?" She asked, not allowing her question to be evaded.

Soldier: 76 Folded his arms, contemplating how to go about breaking the news to the young Overwatch agent. "Look, Oxton... It's not that simple when it comes to Talon. If we're not careful, things could end very poorly. All the hostages have been put into the aircraft's containment chambers for the time being, until we can make sure that they're not a threat."

Tracer was perplexed. "Huh? ...I still don't get it. Why would any of them be a threat to us? We just _saved them!"_

"It's not that simple." Ana reiterated, shaking her head in dismay. "This is not the first time we've managed to save hostages held by Talon. And the last time we did, things very quickly went downhill..."

The youngest of the group cocked her head with curiosity as the elderly sniper began her tale.

"Many years ago, the terrorist organization had it out to kill Gérard Lacroix, a member of Overwatch who was making great progress in taking them down. After trying, and failing, to assassinate the man, they came for his wife... Amélie. She was rescued, but shortly after Gérard was dead, and Amélie missing, presumably having been killed by Talon in an act of retaliation."

Her eyes grew distant. The woman soon became lost in the recollection.

"It was only during my last mission for Overwatch that I learned what had truly become of her. It was said that Talon had acquired a new sniper. Fearsome and efficient, this new foe was quickly rising within their ranks. It came time for me to face my opponent, and I readied myself. But then, through the scope, my enemy was revealed to me; it was none other than the familiar face of Amélie Lacroix. My hesitation cost me my eye... And my entire team.  
It was only later that I learned that Talon had altered her mind and body, turning her into a sleeper agent, and then, a killing machine. She was no longer the Amélie I once knew... That girl died long ago. She now only exists as 'Widowmaker'."

Lena was in shock. _Widowmaker_ used to be on the good side. It seemed impossible. Could Talon change a person that much...? Her mind flashed back to previous encounters with the sniper, to that brief moment of hesitation back in Mexico. She thought of Angela, staring back at her, eyes lost and bleak. Anger washed over her. Lena's fists became two clenched balls of fury at either side. Her voice erupted, shaky but clear, from her throat.

"How could anyone even _do_ such a thing to a human being..? To anyone..." Teeth ground down in contempt for the terrorists. She had to see Mercy and make sure that they hadn't done such a monstrosity to her, too. Her eyes flashed a pleading look to her superiors. "Can I at least go see her?"

Ana's lips pursed in disapprovement. Lena's head hung, waiting for the refusal.

"We'll be disembarking soon." Soldier interjected, before Ana could reply. "I can allow you to be Mercy's escort to the examination room. But you should probably rest up for now. We don't need any complications from your recent transfusion, given that our best medic is currently out of commission."

The Brit's face visibly brightened in appreciation. "Gotcha!"

With a proud salute, she marched back towards her quarters for the time being.

Symmetra, too, began to exit the room. "You should expect me to accompany the director at all times until he is back in India. As for the chance you have made possible in the successful retrieval, our thanks are implied."

With the two out of sight, the Egyptian turned to her companion. "Are you sure that was a wise decision, Jack? You know that Ziegler was rather close with the girl."

Soldier nodded. "All the better. We need every pair of eyes we can afford to watch the hostages, and if anybody is going to notice something off about the doctor, it will be those who knew her best."

Beyond the doorway, Tracer listened in, back to the wall. In the darkness of the ship's corridor, Lena had a feeling that her mission was far from over. The girl let out a disheartened sigh and returned to her chamber.

* * *

**Talon Outpost, Yemen**

The echoing footfalls of steel boots bounced off the dark brick walls of the hidden Talon outpost. Reaper paced around the chamber, waiting for the communication line to sync. Soon, there was a flicker on the wall-mounted screen, then static. The image onscreen became more and more clear as the signals lined up. At last, the connection was established, a face emerging, fierce and cruel.

"Well..?" Reaper growled.

"Everything is in place." Boomed the voice at the other end. "After I tie up a few loose ends, I will be ready."

Reyes gave a grunt of acknowledgement. The man behind the screen allowed a tactful pause before changing the subject. "How goes the mission?"

"Early experiments were a success. The primary subjects were exposed, and the results were promising. Now that we seem to have perfected the project's infiltrative proprieties, we can begin to develop the program in earnest. To date, it is rather tame. We have yet to develop the means to distribute our work, but that will come with time."

'Good. November is just around the corner. There is little time for setbacks if we want to win this battle."

"I know." Replied Reaper. "And that's why I'm keeping tabs on the tech department. I've been noticing some level of suspicious behaviour- not that that's unusual, given who runs the thing. Still, I wouldn't be surprised if she turned out to have a hand in the destruction of our most advanced experimentation lab."

"If you fear being overthrown, you must rise above the enemy's expectations."

The wraith let out a guttural laugh. "Afraid? No. For now, I'll let her play her games. It may turn out to be to my benefit. Sombra may think herself clever, but once I no longer have a use for her, it will be time to show the hacker who the _real_ threat is."

* * *

**France, hidden location**

*Achoo!*

Widowmaker glared at Sombra as the latter once again recovered from a bout of sneezing. Reaching for the nearest tissue, the Hispanic cleared her sinuses and reestablished a more dignified composure.

"My apologies, araña. Either I'm really popular today, or I'm coming down with a serious head cold."

The assassin crinkled her nose at the sight of yet another soggy tissue littering her home. "Perhaps I would be less concerned, had I not recently purchased the coffee table."

Sombra shrugged unapologetically at the mound. "Sí, sí. The place is nice and all, but you know that I only come here because this place isn't riddled with cameras, unlike pretty much every Talon base in existence. Funny how they don't even bother with video surveillance here anymore. The perks of being so helplessly loyal, I suppose."

Ignoring Widow's huff of indignation, the hacker shuffled around in her bag until she procured a bottle of red pills.

"Take these every day, Alice. Preferably in the evening. Your amygdala will pop out of it's rabbit hole _without_ all those headaches you've been complaining about, which is really just your subconscious rebelling against its suppression. Maybe you should give it a listen, sometime."

"Your emotions make you vulnerable." Scoffed the French woman. Sombra, once again, made a mental note to expand the woman's movie repertoire.

"Only if you're not strong enough to control them, _mi alma._ And don't worry -these aren't sugar pills. Harder to do that with compressed tablets, anyway."

Widowmaker sat in an awkward silence, watching the Spanish woman reapply her lipstick. Try as she might, she could see no obvious reason as to why the hacker was doing all this, though there had to be. It was more likely for Reaper to start wearing pink than for Sombra to help her out of the goodness of her heart. Her mind wandered, exploring possible ulterior motives. To obtain information? The assassin doubted that. Even if she did know more than just the bare minimum of Talon's plans, what information remained inaccessible to the other woman was few and far between. Why, then? To gain her favour? Amélie was just trying to determine what use that would be to her when Sombra smacked her lips, now done with her makeup. Deciding to mull it over some other time, Widowmaker questioned her guest.

"Tell me about this "emotional growth" again. I don't quite understand... Why would I need such a foolish piece of my past humanity?"

With a flick of her arm, Sombra cleared the table, propping her elbows on its glass surface. "Alright, chica. I'll explain it like this: your heart is different from the rest of mine, or anyone in existence, no? You don't emit the standard heartbeat, and you don't give off an electric signal like an omnic. You're unhindered by life detection systems. Simply _ideal_ when it comes to slipping in and out of the shadows. But that all comes at a price. In order to modify your body, they shut down different parts of your brain, en lenguaje sencillo. In doing that, you lost your emotions. For Talon, this was an unexpected plus. Having no emotions means no hesitation, no need to question your loyalties, or your orders. They made you the perfect sniper... And the perfect zombie.

The use wasn't widespread, because it was still regarded as experimental until recently. I guess a congratulations is in order. The fact that you're alive and seemingly flawless convinced the higher-ups that this is useful enough to warrant further development."

The older woman remained skeptical of the other's good deeds. "And what are _you_ getting out of this?"

Sombra laughed. "What will I _get?_ Nothing. I mean it: I like you, Amé. Besides, this is interesting. I get bored way too easily, and you're the _perfect_ distraction." She flashed a seductive look at the cold-hearted killer. Then, glancing at her watch, she stood up abruptly. "Maldición! Is that the time? I really ought to get going. Expect to see me again very soon, araña. You need more fun in your life."

In an instant, the caramel-skinned girl was gone.

* * *

****

**Primary Care Med Bay, Watchpoint: Gibraltar**

Tracer sat on the seat provided for her on the other side of the wall-screen in the patient care room. Every so often, she'd check the clock. Was the assessment going smoothly? How much longer would they be?

Her fingers fiddled with the zipper of her coat.

_Why can't they just hurry it up and release her, for goodness' sake? I **know** that Angela is innocent. There's no way they twisted her around, too..._

She recalled how the Swiss woman had been seated deathly still in the containment room when she had come to escort her to the watchpoint.

_"Heya... You... Uh... Do you remember me?"_

_"Yes. We met not too long ago. Your name is Lena, right? You brought me out of that building before the explosion."_

At this she had laughed, in part due to embarrassment, and in part to hide the disappointment she felt in losing a piece of her friend.

_"Yeah. I'm gonna be your escort to the med bay. I think the doctors need to take a look at you and make sure you're alright. How are you feeling, luv?"_

The blonde looked down at her palms.

_"Lost."_

Back in the present, there was a shuffling as the dividing screen was pulled open. Mercy made her way out, tapping the brunette on the shoulder. "Zenyatta wants to see you."

Tracer inhaled, rising from her chair and freeing it up for the patient. Angela beamed a smile of encouragement her way before the screen obscured her from view.

_Just like her. Worrying about me at a time like this..._

Soon she was face to face with the omnic healer. He sat behind the desk, not on a chair, but hovering, hands resting on his lap as he contemplated the scrawled notes of his clipboard. Zenyatta was one of the many new faces brought into Overwatch since the recall all those months ago. He had come to Gibraltar when his pupil, Genji, was sent Winston's signal, with the warning that his name was likely on Talon's hit-list. A former member of the Shambali, the monk was a highly proficient medic. It was truly a blessing. Healers were becoming more and more scarce these days. Always at peace with his surroundings, it was easy to see why those who crossed his path left with a softer disposition than before.

Raising his head to acknowledge the other's presence, he motioned to the chair.

"Have a seat."

Tracer slid into the wooden chair and looked at Zenyatta expectantly. The omnic bowed his head once again. "I expect that you have many questions regarding your friend. I shall begin with the good news: she is healthy, and it is my belief that she poses no more threat to any of us as you or I."

At this, she was overjoyed. "I was right! They didn't change her, then?" Tracer asked, still hopeful.

"Change is a relative term." Rang the omnic in a sad manner. "We are all shaped by our memories. Our experiences are a large part of what makes us who we appear to be. And yet, there are times when fate has other plans, and chooses to alter this state of being. Your friend, as you likely have already concluded, has no recollection of you, nor any personal information. Indeed, she is inflicted with a particular form of retrograde amnesia."

"Amnesia?" Said Lena. "That's not permanent, right? It wears off in a few days?"

The doctor shook his head. "It does, and it does not. The cases vary, and despite decades of research, we have yet to find an absolute cure. Days, months, years... Who can say? The best thing that we can do for her is to allow Dr. Ziegler to assimilate gradually, at her own pace, until she begins to recover. We cannot force a mind to remember; to do so would be met with resistance from the part of her brain that seeks to obscure the past. All that can be done is to consistently provide our continued support."

He flipped through the pages again, processing his notes.

"Little is known of her time at the hands of our adversaries. She has been subjected to severe trauma- that much is clear in the mapping of her psychological functions. Normally, rehabilitation with healers and loved ones is recommended for such cases, but with the amnesia, she may find it hard to open up to the majority of those she once deemed worthy. Upon probing her comfort zones, I would suggest that you be the one to accompany her throughout her recovery, should you deem it appropriate. There is already the beginning of a bond between you both. The only bond she has."

Tracer nodded, struggling to absorb as much of the information as she can. "Yeah... Me and Ange were talking already on the way here. She doesn't quite remember me, or anything, but..." she bit her lip, swallowing the lump in her throat "It's still _her._ I know it. And I want to help her through this."

The monk hummed in approval. "I shall provide you with information on both amnesia and trauma. There will also more than likely be a number of ill-effects as a consequence of her afflictions, which will be listed here in order of occurrence. I will be her therapist for the time being, but what goes on beyond these walls is just as significant as the work within. Remember: the doctor may never recover. Ensure that she feels accepted for who she is, regardless of her mental state."

* * *

Evening had settled in full on the watchpoint, the air cool with a late October chill. Tracer led her charge down the hall, blankets in hand.

"Don't you worry about what they said, luv. It's not your fault if you can't remember." she said. On multiple occasions, the couple had bumped into a colleague on their way to their destination, having to explain each time when familiar faces frowned at the lack of recognition from the blonde. "When it comes time, you'll recover. Oh, and that's the laundry room." She added, pointing to a navy door. Eventually, they stopped at a set of doors at the end of the hall.

"Aaaaaand this is where you'll be staying! Gibraltar really is a nice place, once you know your way around. My room is right next to yours. Pretty convenient, if you ask me. We'll get you settled before you know it." She gave Mercy a welcoming smile.

As they were making their way in the room, Ana appeared at the door, politely knocking on the frame to catch the girls' attention.

"Oxton, a word, if you please."

"Be right there, ca- er, Shrike." She replied, only just remembering the sniper's insistence on her dropping the former title. Lena handed the blankets over. "Here, you get started without me. Be right back!" With a signature tapping of her two fingers to her forehead, the Overwatch agent bounced out of the room.

Now alone with the former captain, Lena spoke up, dropping the lighthearted demeanor. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing in particular." Ana replied, frowning. "I just thought to warn you once again before I go. Keep your eyes close to Dr. Ziegler, and be sure to report any strange behaviour. She is stationed near you for a reason. We're trusting you to keep us all safe, should the need arises."

She jostled her shoulder, readjusting the holster of her rifle.

"Speaking of reports," she added, "I have yet to receive yours. Once you have delivered the briefing to Winston, forward an additional copy to me, as we are working together for the time being. We have lost a chance to secure further details of the developing God Program. We need to make our first move before they do. Spare no details."

Before she could turn to leave, Tracer cleared her throat. "Shrike... Have you spoken to Pharah yet?"

Ana froze. "...No" was her pursed reply.

"I think you should. I know you said she'd understand and all, but when I gave her that letter, she had the saddest look on her face. She tried to hide it, but I could tell."

A twinge of guilt hit the bounty hunter. "I'll take my leave, for now. Be on your guard, Tracer."

* * *

_Mercy struggled against the bonds holding her down. She pulled, but there was no give to her bindings. Everything she saw was covered in a dark film, muddling the image. A grotesque figure stood before her, brandishing a variety of torture tools in its many arms. In slow motion, the figure stumbled closer._

_And closer._

_Time stretched an eternity, the smell of rotting flesh pervading the air._

_There was a clang, and she fell to the ground._

_Angela clambered to her feet, legs wobbly. She tried to run, but her legs found no friction on the shadowy surface. To her horror, she felt the ground give way, draining all hope of escape from her mind. Eyes closed, Mercy braced herself for the worst._

_A tremor, then the sound of a building collapsing. Pain shot through her body. Above, she could see a crowd of people, all staring down. She waved her arms frantically, trying to grab their attention._

_One by one, they walked away._

_There was a metallic grinding sound behind her. Footfalls came fast and heavy, the captive knowing that every instance was the sound of her demise._

_"Help me!" She cried, but her mouth opened and closed without a sound. Breathing seemed impossible. The noise was so loud now, it was unbearable... The blonde's hands shot to her ears._

Angela awoke with a gasp. Her body was shivering uncontrollably, she was covered in sweat, and there was a pungent odour in the air. Her heart was pounding so hard it hurt. Clutching her chest, she tried to shift her focus.

The clock on the wall read: 2:03am. Roughly three hours since Tracer had bid her goodnight after the room's preparation. Although initially comfortable, her sleep had soon become restless, plagued with nightmares she couldn't even remember. The pitch darkness of the area only served to further suffocate the blonde. Finding no solace in bed, Mercy left the room.

* * *

Tracer had been mindlessly flicking through channels on tv when the knock sounded at her door.

"Coming!" She called. Caught at such a strange time, Lena hastily threw on a pair of boxers and sprinted to the door. Outside, Tracer was surprised to see Angela standing alone in the hallway.

"Oh, heya, Ange. What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

The distraught medic began wringing her hands, unsure exactly what she had expected from her nightly visit. "Lena, I..." She trailed off.

"What is it...?" Concerned, she glanced at the older woman. The British girl's eyes trailed down to Mercy's soiled clothes. _"...Oh."_

As if suddenly realizing her predicament, the medic's grip tightened on her wrists, nails embedding in the flesh as her face heated up with embarrassment. Her eyes pricked with tears. She was certain now that her only friend saw her for nothing more than a child. Angela's shoulders began to shake.

Tracer's heart broke at the sight before her. Zenyatta had warned her of such episodes, although she had seen this kind of behaviour before in the orphanage. Too many times, too many people. First with war, and now with terrorists like Talon... Tracer reached out and gently placed her hands around Angela's.

"No, no, no, luv... It's alright. C'mon, we'll get you all cleaned up."

Once the task was completed, the two returned to the bedroom. It was as warm and welcoming as ever, despite the clutter. Lena scratched her head awkwardly. "Sorry for the mess. Wasn't really expecting company tonight."

"Well, you hardly invited me over." Laughed Mercy, eliciting a smile from the other agent.

The younger woman was glad to see the spark coming back in her friend. She let out a giggle, showing her guest to the couch. "Here, let's watch something."

What started out as a simple visit soon became a lengthy marathon. When the credits rolled, signalling the end of their third film, Mercy let out a yawn from her spot on the couch.

"Perhaps I should try again to sleep..." She mumbled, head already beginning to dip.

Tracer rubbed her eyes, feeling the same way, albeit hesitant to let the fun end. "If you want, you can sleep in here until you feel better. I know how scary it can be to be all alone when nothing seems right with the world."

A sleepy smile spread across Angela's face. "You've already done more than enough for me tonight. And Lena?"

"Yeah-?'

She was cut off as her lips were caught in a chaste kiss.

"Thank you." Said the Swiss woman. Lena held her tight, still a little stunned by the action. Was she...?

Quiet snores met her ears. Tracer smiled sadly.

"You always _were_ most honest right before falling asleep..." Shifting into a more comfortable position, the Brit took comfort in the slow, steady breaths of the one she loved most. She, too, began to drift between waking and sleeping, muttering as she succumbed to the desire to sleep:

"This time, I'll watch over you, Ange..."

* * *

**Translations:**

**En lenguaje sencillo = In simple terms.**

**Maldición! = Curses!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of extra fluff written to celebrate Halloween~

****

**Watchpoint: Gibraltar,**   
_October 31st_

Tracer sat in the mess room, stirring her porridge. The steady buzz of activity echoed around her as she shoveled another bite into her mouth. While she kept her face turned towards the TV, her eyes often wandered to the woman sitting beside her.

It had been a handful of days already since the hostages had been assessed. Most of them were recovering in the patient wing, being treated for physical and mental trauma. As it was, some were recovering quicker than others. Symmetra and Varuni Malviya had already departed from the watchpoint, arriving safely in India the previous day. Winston had even suggested the possibility of collaborating with the company again in the future. Tracer wondered how long it would take for her friend to fully recover.

"You doing alright there, luv?" Asked the Brit, bringing her thumb to her mouth to ebb the flow of porridge. She swallowed. Sometimes, it felt like her body was just too slow to keep up with the rest of her.

Mercy nodded, still scanning the collage of pictures splayed out before her.

"Just trying to place who I was before all this. Everyone expects so much from me, it seems. Although I must admit, it is rather hard to concentrate with all the whispers."

Tracer understood what she meant. True, the room was seldom quiet, but there was a noticeable difference in the air -broken conversations turning to hushed exchanges whenever either of them turned around.

"...Ziegler? No! But..."

"... _Someone,_ you know? Of course, there's never a guarantee..."

"... Quiet! They're looking this way..!"

The younger of the two sighed. Word traveled fast in the watchpoint, and she knew how it felt to be unwillingly cast into the spotlight after her incident with the slipstream... She turned to face her companion.

"You know, there's this really nice café down by Rosia Bay. They still give out paper receipts and everything! You really ought to let me show you around!" Anxious to get going, she placed her tray on the central conveyor belt.

Angela smiled, closing the photo album and placing it in her bag, preparing to do the same. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea. Perhaps the food there will be a little less... Well done." The blonde gestured to her plate, which bore a sad-looking piece of toast that had clearly spent too long in the oven. The two of them laughed, then rose from the table.

* * *

A bell over the door tinged with a clear chime when the two made their way into the café. Even in the early morning, the place was packed, but the couple managed to find a seat in the far corner. They picked up the ribbon-trimmed menus from the holder and looked through the list.

"There are so many options, even the breakfast section is a little overwhelming." Mercy remarked.

"I hear the french toast is really good, with a shot of sweet spice." Tracer offered, knowing that it had always been a favorite of hers when they used to visit.

The blonde nodded. "That sounds delightful, actually. Have you decided on your order?"

She had. Tracer practically knew the menu by heart, for all the times that she had frequented the little shop.

"I'll go and order for us, then. You just hang tight. Be back in two shakes."

Despite her faith in the young woman, Angela couldn't help but think that the wait would take a bit longer than that with such a lineup. Her eyes wandered, taking in the scene of the building.

Walls were painted in sweet pastels, warm and cold colours blending together to form a mellow combination. The semi-transparent lace curtains added a touch of softness to the otherwise harsh sunlight. Streams of ivy hung, plush and healthy, on the walls. For some reason, the medic seemed to recall reading somewhere that plants tend to thrive in high-traffic areas.

"Conversation and music both improve the quality of plant life, too..." Murmured the doctor, feeling on the verge of a distant memory. Try as she might, it wouldn't come to her.

Putting it aside for the time being, she turned instead to the bulletin board. One poster stood out in particular. Bold letters stretched along the top, giving the viewer promise of great excitement:

**Día de Muertos!**

Holders beneath were stuffed with pamphlets. Mercy grabbed one and began to leaf through it.

By the time Tracer returned with the two plates, Mercy had become so enthralled in what she was reading that she failed to notice her friend's return.

"Heya! Got you breakfast." Tracer crowed, sliding the plates onto the table. "What'cha looking at?" She asked, nodding towards the article that had captured her attention.

The pamphlet was turned around. When she saw it, Lena's mouth burst into a grin.

"Ah! Día de Muertos? I had forgotten that it's the end of October already! They do that in Mexico, but the _biggest_ celebration is in Dorado -they always are. It's so much fun and- " She gasped. "Blimey. I forgot that they built a new transit station here last month! I could just _take_ you there. I mean, we were given a bunch of time off to do pretty much whatever we want until you're cleared for work again. Which, really, might be soon since your amnesia didn't affect your medical knowledge... So let's head off to the tele station!"

The Brit bounced off her chair, putting on her bomber jacket until midway through, her stomach let out a loud groan. Tracer scratched her head in embarrassment, suddenly remembering the reason they had come to the café.

"Ahaha... Well, _after_ breakfast."

The girls dug in, savouring the elegant flavours that the establishment was known for. There was an excited buzz to the conversation as they pondered what this year's celebrations would be like over their food, anxious to embark to their destination later on that day.

* * *

****

**A few hours later, Dorado, Mexico**

"Remind me why I've come here again?" Widowmaker questioned in a bored manner.

People clogged the streets like ants around a picnic. The air was charged with energy. Colours, streamers and music were everywhere. She stoically brushed the "festivities" from her shoulders, observing the sea of skulls and alternative masks.

Sombra rolled her eyes at the blue-skinned woman. "Oh, lighten up, hermosa. I brought you here to party!"

The assassin, eyes fixed on her nails in order to avoid looking Sombra in the eye, scoffed. "And here I thought you had promised to help disarm my target's security system for my latest assignment, not drag me by the heels and dress me up in-" She broke her charade to inspect her outfit, fingers pinching the pleated black and green bustles of her dress. Letting it drop dramatically to express her discontent, ended simply: " _... This._ "

"Admit it: You like it. You have your fair share of trinkets at home. I even picked out some familiar colours, no?"

Widowmaker bit her lip. It was a guilty pleasure of hers to dress up on rare -and discrete- outings. Leave it to Talon's hacking prodigy to take interest in such a trivial secret...

The Talon agent puffed the spikes of her hair, dyed pink for the occasion. " _Come on_ , chica. I wouldn't miss this festival for the world. Not with such a pretty date on my hands. And believe me, you're just _gorgeous_ today."

Sombra advanced, swinging her arm around the French woman's hips. The latter pushed her away with a glare.

"Bas les pattes! I... Do not swing that way." A faint darkness blotched visibly on her cheeks before she positioned the swan mask of her outfit to the front. She cursed herself for letting her emotions cloud her mind this much, turning abruptly to hide her embarrassment.

_'I don't swing that way'... Hah! What a closet case._ Thought the hacker, taking great delight in toying with the sniper's feelings. She placed a hand on her shoulder, softening her tone.

"Ah, apenado, mi amiga. I promise to behave. But look -aren't those displays beautiful? I have your target under my radar. He is not going anywhere, and it's not so bad to relax every now and then."

Amélie's pensive silence hung in the air as she weighed the options. At another time, she would have immediately forsaken the celebrations, branding them as a foolish waste of time. But now, she was starting to want more than the monotonous orders. Always the same job, different kill.

Waving her arm to catch Widowmaker's attention, she pointed to the series of stalls at the other end of the street.

"I'm going to grab a bite. Want anything?"

"Non."

Sombra's pout formed creases against the vibrant skull pattern of her face. "Still the same as ever. I'll bring you back something. How about Dorado's Pan de muerto*? It's _to die for._ "

With a snicker, she vanished into the crowd.

* * *

"Mmmmmm! Ange, you have _got_ to try this!" Tracer exclaimed, taking a bite of a skull-shaped treat.

"You do realize that calavera** is essentially pure sugar?" Questioned the medic.

Still working her way around the sweet seasonal treat, the Overwatch agent struggled to get her words past her lips.

"Bhht's _goof_ sughr!" Chirped the younger woman.

Mercy laughed, taking a bite of her own, less sugary snack. "Ja, but too much of a good thing is bad for you."

_I don't think there's even such thing as too much of you._ Came a voice from Lena's head.

"Hmm?" Angela hummed, cocking her head to the side.

Tracer's hand shot up to her mouth. Bollocks. Had she really said that out loud..?

"Hahaha... I said, 'There's no such thing as too much food!' Y'know, at festivals and such." Lena's face was starting to feel hot and she was sure it was showing the signs of it. Luckily, her friend either didn't notice or pretended not to.

"Well, I suppose I can pretend so for one day. This pamphlet says that after the parade, there will be a fireworks display. Did you want to go?"

Tracer nodded with enthusiasm. "Yeah!"

With a smile, the Swiss woman clasped Tracer's hand in her own, swinging it gently back and forth while the parade continued on its way. Mercy felt a swell of familiar affection for the girl, like a strange sense of déja vu. She clasped the hand a little tighter than before, keeping her eyes on the British woman.

Tracer hummed in tune with the festivity's songs. She had come to the festival to lighten Angela's mood, and yet it was quickly becoming one of her fondest days with the doctor.

* * *

In the darkness of the alley, the festivities beyond were muted, as if clouded by a veil. There was a light sound of steady tapping down the passage. Sombra gazed up from her resting spot on the wall to see five Los Muertos members make their approach.

"Oy, pachuco, where's Matías? I don't remember striking this deal with some small fries." Being a time-sensitive agreement, the Talon agent was more than a little displeased at the prospect of the deal going astray.

The front most member of the gang spat on the ground. "You talk too big, señorita. Like you own the place. Like everybody owes you one. But you know, not everyone in Los Muertos is your friend. Some of us here-" he motioned to his following "-think that you're running a little past your prime."

One of the members drew out a switchblade, clicking the button to set it in position. The others carried weapons of their own; bats, bottles, and brass knuckles. Sombra smirked at the display of hostility.

"Heh. Everyone is my friend, amigo. _Everyone._ Because those that aren't..."

With a snap of her fingers, she translocated behind the ringleader of the group, unsheathing her machine pistol and making quick work of the man.

"...end up dead."

It wasn't long before all five of the grunts were either killed or knocked out cold. She didn't kill them all, no. Then who would be left to play messenger? Despite the confrontation, the hacker doubted that Matías had double-crossed her. She had offered more than enough to entice him into sneaking her the radium she required. Which begged the question: who was trying to play middleman here? For good measure, she took a few demeaning photos of the aftermath.

In the meantime, she dipped her hands into the pockets of the fallen. There wasn't much, to be honest. Merely pocket change and a handful of toffees.

_Tch. Not even a can of mediprox for my wound._ She thought. _But waste not, want not, right?_

After pocketing the spoils, she wrapped the stab wound on her arm and made her way to the food stall.

* * *

**Isla Hermite, Chile**

Great winds tore are the shores of Isla Hermite's south most point, jagged edges of rock by the ocean forming the only wave-breaker to the stormy sea. Through the maze of crumbled terrain and fog, two figures trudged towards a lone ruin.

"Brrrr! It's freezing here! Are you _sure_ this is where the legend took place?" Shivered D. Va from within her triple-layered snowsuit.

"Positive!" Lúcio shouted over the storm. "The legend says 'on an isle with a name befitting of the gods, at the end of the earth, ravaged by pain'... Uh, something or another. But my sources tell me this is the place, and it only happens on a Halloween night flush with a full moon. So we have to uncover the mystery before the next eight hours!"

Hana sighed. "I just wish I had my MEKA. It would be a lot warmer that way, and I could just rocket us to the ruins."

"No way! It's too stormy for the MEKA." Her partner-in-crime exclaimed. It was true, but they both knew the real reason it was left behind was to avoid Overwatch protocol. The whole island was declared a restricted zone since the civil war. Seeing the Asian's worry, he gave her a firm pat on the shoulder. "We'll be in and out, nothing to it. You got a medic. It's all cool."

They passed a few broken Moai statues that had been flung to the cliff's edge since the island's post-war destruction. Their stone mouths stood agape in a silent scream.

"If you're looking for creepy, you definitely picked the right place." Whined the Korean. Suddenly, she stopped, jaw dropping. "Lúcio! Wait! We need to stop!"

The Brazilian laughed. "You that scared, D? The ruins aren't that far. Look, it's probably not even that bad."

"No... Lúcio... You really need to come over here. There's something in the ocean!"

Easing his way over to the cliffside, he shook his head at the situation.

"Hana, you really got to stop trying to fool me, or one of these day's I'm go-" He never had a chance to finish his sentence. Instantly, his eyes zeroed in on what Hana had seen, just outside their reach, in the ocean's turbulent currents.

"We need to call Winston."

* * *

****

**Dorado, Mexico**

Sombra made her way back to the parade, food in hand. As if sensing her presence, Widowmaker turned to the hacker.

"It is about time." She scoffed from behind the swan mask. "I had to beat down several drunken locals who had the _audacity_ to approach me." She took the items Sombra offered her, unwrapping one of the toffees and placing it on her tongue. As she sampled the sweet, she noticed the makeshift bandage on her escort's arm.

"What happened?" She asked, nodding at the injury.

With a shrug, Sombra looked at the wound nonchalantly. "I had to beat down a few people, myself, to get these deserts, so you had better enjoy them. The vendor was running out of stock and the crowd just went _crazy. _Seriously! Take a look."__

Widowmaker failed to stifle the laughter that bubbled from her throat at the sight of the figures, strung up like puppets in poses best left undescribed. The mood was infectious, Sombra chuckling alongside her seeing the somber assassin in such an unusual state.

"Forgive me. That was jus-" Amélie's words were silenced by a coughing fit. The coughing gave way to hacking, drawing the concern of the Spanish woman.

"Widowmaker..?"

When she didn't respond, the younger woman reached forward. "Widow, you alright?!"

Her hand was slapped away by the sniper's cold hands. "Laissez moi!" She snapped between coughs. Finally, she composed herself. "...It was nothing"

Sombra seemed unconvinced. "You're not sick, are you?"

"Non. I simply choked." She replied, feeling almost bad for snapping. Was the blackmailer worried about her?

They both turned back to the parade, deciding to focus instead on the costumed omnic breathing fire into the sky.

* * *

****

**Watchpoint: Gibraltar**

In the dim candlelight of the watchpoint, shadows danced in sinister shapes on the walls. The air was charged with tension, thick as honey, while the lone warrior within locked eyes on his prey. Keeping to the shadows, he readied his weapon, every fiber preparing to strike the unsuspecting prey.

In an instant, there was a whistle in the air. The light flashed but for a moment on the sleek blade that sliced readily through thick flesh. Quickly, he turned, slicing another, and another, until there were no targets remaining. The innards of each victim began to tumble slowly into the crate. Genji looked on, taking delight in the sharpness of his blade. There was a satisfaction in seeing the slight delay from his swift blows to the visible cuts.

"Yosh! It is done." He stated. His head bowed, as if taking the time to appreciate the labour that made such a supply available. The building was quiet- almost horribly so. The majority of the Overwatch crew were attending a Halloween party being held at the other end of the facility.

He was disturbed by a knock on the door. He shook his head.

"Ah, that will be master... But he has not given me any time to clean the remains! No matter. I must not keep him waiting."

Genji opened the door to nothing but darkness. The Asian folded his arms, displeased. Mcree had been pulling pranks throughout the facility, and he would not doubt the man's drive to chase him down to the darkest recesses of the watchpoint for "a little bit o' the old Halloween spirit.". Stepping beyond the dim light of the door, Genji reached for the switch opposite to the room's entrance. Finding it, he flicked upwards, waiting a few moments for the lights to flicker lazily to life.

After a short span of time, it became apparent that the lights would remain dead no matter how many times the switch was flicked. He could sense a presence in the darkness, and closed his eyes, listening for the tell-tale clicking of cowboy boots.

But there was only silence.

His sensors alerted him to a movement just behind him, causing the ninja to turn with great haste. The cyborg entered the room once more, scanning the room.

"...Master?"

There was a sudden force clasping his head, hands positioned as if ready for the killing blow.

**"Trick..!"**

The ninja spun, narrowly avoiding a violent kick that would have sent him flying. He regained his balance, coming face to face with an omnic.

"-Or treat?" The creature asked, raising his arms to balance two orbs, golden and red.

Genji froze, staring at the creature before him. Realization dawning on him, he put his face in his palm.

"...Master. What are you doing...?"

The monk, normally dressed to exert an aura of tranquility, was now painted from head to toe to resemble a crying skeleton, complete with a brain tattoo. To top it all off, the monk was using his spiritual energy to add the visual effect of extra limbs, which cast cryptic light around him.

The omnic dismissed his spectral arms in an almost brooding manner. His head faced the earth as he echoed a sad sound.

"The gunslinger told me that if I dressed as a demon and defeated you in battle, you would give me candy. But I see you have none to give."

A sigh.

"No, master. To my knowledge, that is not how the celebration works." He said calmly, privately swearing to pay a special Halloween visit of his own to the American.

Resuming his standard dignified pose, Zenyatta drifted towards his student. "I sense anger deep within you. Perhaps you were expecting candy, too?"

"Master, you do not eat candy."

"This may be true."

His attention switched to the sticky contents of the crate before him. "I see that you have prepared for today's lesson. I trust that the rest of the components are present?"

Genji nodded towards the nearby table. "All is accounted for. I greatly look forward to today's special lesson."

"Hmm..." The omnic sang, inspecting the crate. "I believe that there is enough here to work with. Very well. I will teach you now, how to make... Pumpkin pie."

With the two working in unison, a pale dough was formed; the first stage of their efforts, complete.

"I look forward to learning this recipe." Said Genji. "My brother loves the dish with a passion."

"It is kind of you to offer such a gift to him. Baking comes from the heart."

The pulp was strained for seeds, the latter of which were set aside to be baked at a later time. Once the ingredients were mixed, the two confectioneries were placed in the oven. Both men stared, intent on watching the cooking process.

"What will you do with your pie, master?" Inquired the cyborg after some time.

"I will eat it, of course."

There was a deep silence as they gazed into the oven once more.

"...Master. You do not eat pie."

"This may be true."

* * *

****

**Several hours later, Dorado, Mexico**

Clouds began drifting over the ocean that surrounded port Flor de Amor. People began gradually settling down into their positions, purchasing last minute trinkets before the show started.

"Lena!" Cried Mercy, extending an arm to the girl below her.

"Thanks, luv!" Tracer returned, grasping her hand. The medic pulled her to the top of the hill, the both of them taking a moment to appreciate the spectacular view. The crowds seemed so distant now. It was as if their little viewpoint was its own little world. A breeze washed over them, causing the long tresses of grass to sway like the sea below.

Tracer watched the stray wisps of Angela's hair flow in the current. It was akin to watching a stream of liquid gold, flying in the wind to the rhythm of her dress' fluttering hem. Her eyes swept from the dress to Mercy's chest, rising and falling with every breath. They veered over collarbones, porcelain neck, and plush lips. It was only when she made it to her crush's upper visage that it became apparent that Mercy was staring straight back.

Shite. It was far too easy to get lost in those eyes. Tracer shook her head. This was her friend. She was here to help rehabilitate her, not caress her, or cuddle her, or kiss her... Or...

_Bugger... This is way harder than it should be..._

At that point, the first of the fireworks started. It was a grand start, fireworks blossoming into colossal planets, the runoff swimming in all directions as if truly alive.

"Hei! I have never seen such an impressive display! Or at the very least, I don't think that I have."

Grateful for the distraction, the younger woman let out a cheer.

Another breeze swept in from the ocean, sending a shiver through them both. In hindsight, Tracer mused that it probably would have been best to grab a duvet for the fireworks show...

"Here," Tracer offered, "we can stay warm with this." She unbuttoned her jacket, sharing the length between the two of them. Mercy moved closer, head now practically in line with hers. A little flustered by the proximity, she turned her head, pretending to gaze at the fireworks with great interest.

With a knock, the base of her skull met her friend's nose.

"Ow!" Came a cry.

Tracer's eyes widened. Instantly, she turned to tend to her friend. _Lena! How can you be so clumsy!?_

"Ange! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to..."

Pinching her nose, the medic took a deep breath. "It's alright. It's not bleeding."

"Right? Let me see."

The hands were drawn away and suddenly Tracer found herself lost in those eyes again. But moreover, the sky blue orbs seemed to reflect the same amount of affection. Instinctively, Lena began to close the distance, lost in the moment.

They had been too close to tell if it was her or the doctor that finally eliminated the space between them. The kiss became more passionate. The two of them eventually fell to the grass, giggling at their clumsiness. Tracer gazed down at her angel lovingly, then frowned. She had to be sure.

"Are you sure this is alright, Ange? Being with me? You've only known me for a couple of days..."

Angela placed a hand on Lena's cheek, thumb caressing the features of the woman before her. She smiled sweetly, bringing her face close to the other's again.

"Funny. It feels as if I've known you for so much longer."

* * *

**Translations:**

**Hermosa = beautiful**

**Bas les pattes! = Hands off!**

**Apenado = Sorry**

**Laissez moi! = Leave me!**

***Pan de muerto is a food traditionally made for the Día de Muertos, a holiday celebrated in Mexico. It is a sweet, sugar-coated bread (Specific recipes vary)**

****Calavera is a super tasty looking skull that is made primarily of sugar. It is another popular Día de Muertos treat.**

**A/N: To help with the story's flow, I will begin dating all the chapters from here on out. (Time zones still apply) ******


	11. Chapter 11

**Watchpoint: Gibraltar**  
_November 6th ___

__  
__  


At the sound of her alarm, Tracer opened her eyes with a sleepy moan, hitting the snooze button with practiced ease. Not quite ready to leave the comfort of her bed, she rolled over to cuddle into her lover.

"Mornin', luv..." She murmured, reaching over to Angela's side of the bed, surprised to find nothing but thin air.

"Ange..?" The brunette propped herself upright. She found a note on the bedside table, scrawled in Mercy's handwriting:

_Called in early. Emergency. See you tonight._

"First day in and already in high demand..." She said aloud, a little sad that they wouldn't be spending the morning together.

She still had a few hours before her check-in with Shrike. The young Overwatch agent figured that she might as well do something with her time.

"I wonder what Lúcio is up to..."

She started off towards her friend's room, but found it to be vacant. It was weird for him to be up this early. She decided to check somewhere else, blinking in and out of the rooms to maximize her efficiency. After an hour, however, she gave up.

"No luck here, either. Bollocks. Where's he to?"

Tracer paced around the vicinity of the arcade at a loss. It felt like the Brit had been searching up and down the entire watchpoint.

"C'mon... I checked every spot he likes to- " Her eyes landed on the nearby clock. "Shite! Is that how late it is? I gotta run!"

Running with all the speed that she could muster, Lena hurried in the direction of the upper offices. Dashing through the doors of the waiting room, she was about to open the door to the meeting place when a voice erupted from the chamber.

* * *

" _I'm_ overreacting?!"

Inside Shrike's office, Pharah's voice boomed at the woman before her. There she was, standing face to face with the sniper herself. This was the person she had looked up to more than anyone else. Her hero. Her mother.

" _You're_ the one who faked your own death! _You_ left your comrades in the dark, and told me nothing! _You're_ the one who came back here like nothing happened, and didn't even have the nerve to tell me personally..!"

Ana folded her arms, a frown accenting the creases of her face. "Habibti..."

Pharah cut her off with a snort. "Don't you 'Habibti' me. You wouldn't even be talking to me right now if I didn't chase you down like some cowering dog! You haven't changed a damn bit, have you?"

"Watch your tongue, child! You do not speak to your mother like that."

The Overwatch captain's rage merely grew at the scolding. Her hands clenched visibly at her sides.

"Well, some mother _you_ are." She muttered, turning sharply and stomped off towards the exit. Throwing the doors open with enough force to kill a goat, the captain stormed off. Behind her, Tracer dodged around the swinging doors to avoid being flattened.

Soldier: 76 chuckled. "She's got her mother's temper."

The sniper took her time organizing her reports. "You can come in now, Oxten." She said, choosing to ignore the man's words.

Lena stood there, concerned gaze following her captain down the hall.

"She'll come back soon enough. She can't stay angry at me forever. I'm sorry that you had to hear that."

_She sounded more upset than angry to me._ Thought the Brit, but the note of guilt in the other woman's voice gave her the notion that she knew that already.

Tracer entered the office and took a seat at the other side of the desk.

"How has the doctor been doing?" Asked Soldier.

"She's been doing okay, I suppose." Mused Lena. "She still can't remember anything from the incident, but Zenyatta said that might take some time. I really don't see her doing anything unusual. It's still her. They haven't changed her, I'm certain of it."

Ana nodded, considering her words. "All the same, I'd like you to continue watching over her. When Dr. Zeigler arrived on board our airship back in Mexico, we made sure to give her a full pat down before assessing her for injuries - The same treatment we gave all the hostages." She added in response to the look on Tracer's face. She continued.

"During the search, we came across this." Ana slid the flash drive across the table. Taking the object into her hands, Lena stared at the pastel purple skull design. There was no doubt about it: she recognized that logo.

"Shrike, I know that symbol... That's the same skull that was on the bottom of that message I got on our rescue mission."

She handed the device back to the older woman, who pocketed it.

"I had thought as much, from the description on your report. I have yet to decipher the contents of the drive; it seems as though the information is heavily encrypted. The question still remains, however: why would the doctor be in possession of such a thing to begin with? Given that this device and the mysterious message are indeed related, there is no doubt that we are dealing with someone within Talon itself. As you could imagine, it would be very reasonable to suspect a trap."

Tracer contemplated the information in silence, turning it over in her head. It did seem like a pretty sound assumption. But would Talon really blow up an entire base just to deliver a flash drive, or even a hostage, for that matter?

"Shrike, it just seems a little over the top, even for Talon. I know they've done some rather messed up things in the past, but I really don't think this is a setup, you know?"

Soldier: 76 seemed to disagree. "I wouldn't put anything past Talon. They don't care how many people they need to trash to achieve their goals. That goes for their own, too."

"Either way," Interjected Ana "we will want to analyze the contents of this device. Perhaps Winston will let us borrow Athena. In the meantime, I cannot stress how important it is for you to stay on your guard."

She rose from her chair, signaling that the meeting was over. Tracer did likewise, leaving the office dishearteningly.

* * *

****

**Watchpoint: Gibraltar medical facility**

"Hurry, hand me the cannula!"

"Here."

"Patient still needs to be properly stabilized. "

"Administering 200mg dobutrex."

"Systolic is 87 and dropping."

"Prepare her for defibrillation!"

"Clear!"

Mercy's voice rang out through the emergency room, followed by a quick clap. The monitor beside the gurney ceased its urgent beeping, falling into a calmer, more rhythmic tone.

"Thank goodness..." She breathed, sweat forming at her brow. Her patient, a Chinese woman, breathed in and out, as if only asleep.

"Vital signs are improving. Now that Ms. Zhou is stabilized, we can begin to treat her injuries. Odd that she hasn't suffered any instance of frostbite, though. I wonder why that is...?"

After treating the patient, they moved her to her recovery area. It was while she was touching up on the patient's notes beside the bed when Winston entered the room.

"How is she doing, Angela?" He asked with concern, walking to the bedside.

"Good" Replied the medic, concluding the report. "We managed to complete the procedure without too many complications. She should be awake within a week."

Winston's demeanor shifted, visibly relaxing at the answer.

"Thank you. I knew that you were the best doctor for the job. It means a lot to me that you were willing to jump right in to emergency surgery on your first day back."

The blonde looked up from her clipboard.

"I take it you know the patient?"

"I do." Winston replied, with a nod. "She was a former Overwatch agent and a dear friend. We had all thought that the agents from Watchpoint: Antarctica were lost in the horrific blizzard that struck the facility years ago...It seems we were wrong..." His face was riddled with guilt. He turned, facing the woman on the bed. "But it _is_ odd. She hasn't appeared to have aged at all. How curious."

"I suppose you don't have any idea why or how she had been missing so long?" Mercy asked.

He shook his head. The Asian woman lay there, her silent figure giving no answers. Winston turned back to Mercy once more.

"Thank you again. I know I really threw you back into this. Why don't you leave a bit early today? Maybe that way you can get something to eat. You've been working non-stop since this morning."

"If you're certain you can spare me, I would love to." replied the doctor. Mercy took her leave, turning at the door to gaze at the two people behind her. For a second - just a trick of the eyes - he looked almost like someone else, like the strangest sense of déja-vu.

_I really should remember to have breakfast in the morning._ She thought, shaking her head.

* * *

****

**Castillo, Dorado**

"That's the last of it." Huffed Sombra, securing the heavy box in the hidden compartment in her wall. The container was quite heavy for its size, due to the compact lead shielding that wrapped around it.

How like Matías to take such a precaution, despite the contents being suspended in the latest protective Novanoid coating, an amazing turn-of-the-century invention capable of halting the process of radioactive decay. Nevertheless, it did make it easier to bear storing the volatile cargo in her house, even if it rendered it harder to carry. After all, while the coating was impervious to damage from the radiation, it was not so resilient to physical damage.

Radium-233, highly radioactive and extremely dangerous. It figures that of all things, _this_ was the substance that she needed. Already a rare element, it has become nearly impossible to obtain after the ban was placed on its trade. The hacker planned to keep a close eye on it. With luck, she would have her way with the strange Vishkar device before her development team even learned what fueled it.

Locking it into place, the Hispanic woman began making preparations for the night's events.

A couple of hours later, there was a knock on the door. Peeking at the security cam, she could see Widowmaker at the door, re-applying some lipstick. The sniper was dressed in a red silken dress, elbow-length black lace gloves, and matching stockings.

"Hola, araña." Sombra chirped after opening the door for her guest. "¡Qué encantador! Is that new lipstick?"

Amélie smiled. "Peut-être, chérie. It does go rather well with the dress. La cache-coeur fendu fin, in blood-orange. A unique dress by Resaix."

Sombra gave a nod before motioning for the other to follow her in.

_Blood orange._ The hacker thought, laughing to herself. _What a pretentious colour. Looks red to me._

Heels clicking against the hardwood floor, the widow made her entrance. She took her time strolling through the small house. It certainly wasn't as lavish as she would have thought it would be. A couple of tables, a small kitchen, a bed... The only thing particularly remarkable in the room was the expansive computer system which spanned nearly half the perimeter of the house.

"Like what you see?" Sombra grinned. "Don't worry. I had to disable a lot of the security devices due to a storage compatibility issue."

Widowmaker gave a small laugh. "I had no idea that you would take interest in such juvenile things." She said, walking over to the bed to pick up a ragged teddy bear.

In a flash, Sombra swiped the plush toy off the bed.

"Back off." She warned. Carefully, she placed him on the shelf nearby. The French woman was slightly taken aback by the reaction.

"D'accord." She replied. "I shall not touch the bear."

Satisfied, her host returned to the stove. "Take a seat, bella dama. Supper is almost done."

Widowmaker pulled out the chair and sat down, reading the label on the bottle of wine. Meanwhile, Sombra ladled the sauce carefully onto two plates, adding a pinch of red powder to her guest's. She made her way to the table and placed them down. The sniper looked up as she did so.

"This is nice wine. You have good taste."

"Awwh, thanks, araña. I do try."

The older woman poured them both a glass, then sampled the dish. She had underestimated her friend's ability to please her palate. The sauce was skillfully combined and consistent throughout. While it wasn't as luxurious as the restaurants in France, it was not substandard by any means. It was definitely better than what Talon provided.

"Quel surprise. You _can_ cook, after all."

Sombra merely shrugged. "So tell me: how have your medications been working for you?"

* * *

****

**Watchpoint: Gibraltar**

With the events of the meeting still ringing in her mind, Tracer made her way back towards her room. The young Overwatch agent entered the dorm area and took a while to admire the scenery outside. It being early evening, she still has some time to relax. Although if Lena was honest with herself, she couldn't wait until Overwatch's reputation was restored. She longed to be out there making a difference without the need to keep a low profile. After all, whether people liked them or not, Talon was still out there, along with other nefarious organizations looking to make a profit from the world's chaos.

A short distance away, the door to the bathrooms opened. Tracer peered over to see none other than Lúcio, wearing an over-sized janitor's outfit complete with a mop and bucket. Intrigued, she blinked to his side.

"Lúcio! I've been looking for you all morning, luv. Where've you been? And, uh... What's with the janitor's getup?"

The Brazilian's face shot up.

" Tracer? Oh man, am I glad to see you! This whole day's been such a drag - Winston put Hana and me on cleaning duty for breaking protocol. And you wouldn't believe how much grime is in this watchpoint."

Tracer grinned, shaking her head in disbelief. _Of course._

"What did you do _this time?"_

Lúcio hung his equipment on the cleaning cart and leaned against the nearby wall. Tracer listened as he recounted how, on Halloween night, he accepted a friend's dare to paint his name on haunted ground.

"-then, of course, we were caught up in this big windstorm. But just as things were getting good, Hana grabs my arm and points to something in the water. I turn and see this massive ice cube on the shoreline. And not just any old block of ice; inside, there was this woman, frozen stiff! There was an Overwatch's logo on her coat, so we knew we had to contact Winston and let him know. We were questioned for hours and then had to wait in Chile until it was clear enough to transport the thing to Gibraltar.

... And that brings us here, to me wiping toilets until my arms want to fall off. I know we broke the rules, but this is just brutal"

Tracer couldn't believe her ears. A body encased in ice that was potentially linked to Overwatch. Could this be Talon at work again?

Lúcio, however, seemed unconcerned.

"So what about you? How is it, being the 'escort' of your you-know-what? Pretty sly move, of you ask me. How'd you convince them to let you do it? Have you made any moves yet?"

He grinned, and Lena could feel her cheeks heat up at the questions. She scratched her head, looking away.

"Hey! My being her escort was Zenyatta's idea. Besides, is not like I would do anything unprofessional or what have you... " She murmured the last bit "...On purpose..."

"Oh." His mouth gaped in amusement. " _Oh_. Don't tell me. You and her already hit it off, didn't you?"

She was caught red handed and she knew it. It was hard to hide these kinds of things from the DJ. He has an uncanny intuition when it came to romance, and so Tracer decided to tell him the truth.

"Okay, okay. We're kind of a thing... But you got to keep it a secret, alright? I'm worried that if the word gets out, Shrike won't trust me enough to be by her side. Do you can't tell a soul. Not even Hana." She added, seeing the person in question walking towards them.

Lucio nodded. "I understand. But hey, we really need to catch up. I've been getting nothing but the boring medic jobs ever since Overwatch started working with Vishkar. Guess they don't want us both in the same room."

D. Va, who had been struggling to pull her heavy equipment down the hall, finally made it within earshot. "Lúcio! There is no way I'm letting you slack off! We are _both_ breaking our backs after you convinced me to go to that island!"

Deciding to make her escape while she could, Tracer gave her friend a wave and continued back to her room.

* * *

****

**Castillo, Dorado**

Widowmaker lazily swirled the contents of her wine glass. Through the cup itself, she could see her host talking, her bare shoulders following the fluid motions of her arms while she spoke. It was hard not to notice the strap of her dress inching downwards with her every movement.

The sniper placed down her glass and decided to try and bring her attention back to the face of her company. Golden eyes settled on lips that were, oddly, unmoving. And frowning.

_Attends. Was she talking..?_ Amélie thought, distractedly. _Or perhaps it was a question?_

If it were the latter, the French woman was at a loss for what to say.

Her guest watched, trance-like, as Sombra leaned in, gently pressing her hand against the other woman's forehead.

"Woah. You're warm. I think you're getting a bit flushed, too."

Amélie drew away, the proximity getting to her. "It is likely I only need to rest. I should be going."

She got up and turned to leave

Sombra grabbed her blue hand before she had the time to get very far.

"Hey, wait a second. I think you should lie down or something." _No way am I letting you go that easily._

At that moment, Amélie snapped, lunging at the hacker and pinning her to the wall. In an instant their lips were clashing furiously.

Surprised, Sombra let herself to be frisked and lowered to the bed, atmosphere building quickly in the small room. Still entangled, the sniper began to nip and play with the Hispanic's mouth, dropping down every now and then to give her neck a similar treatment. It wasn't long until Sombra could feel a cold hand loosening the straps of her dress.

She contemplated stopping her; the situation was not going quite as planned. But in truth, it had been awfully long since she had last gotten to enjoy such a pleasurable evening.

Amélie's voice broke her from her train of thought.

"No underwear? How naughty." There was a smirk, and a trail of cold lips from her jaw to her navel. The older woman began to roughly knead her breasts, eliciting a gasp.

"What can I say?" Sombra breathed. "You have to live every now and - ah!"

She was caught by surprise by the deftness at which the widow could deliver pleasure. She switched between a gentle caress and scraping nails at lightning speed so as to keep her prey guessing.

Her touch was reaching lower and lower until at last her hands were removing the final pieces of clothing from around her waist, fingers teasing her thighs. The cold appendages sent fire up the hacker's nervous system as they began to make their way to her dampened genitalia.

"Haah... Amé..."

"Yes?" Cooed the assassin, removing her own garments as she went. She allowed her mouth to do the task of pleasuring while her hands were occupied. Unsurprisingly, this was not her first sexual encounter with another woman. They came off with practiced ease. Hands now free to do her bidding once more, she slipped her fingers inside Sombra's glossy lips, continuing to work the upper part with her tongue.

After a bit of experimentation, the sniper successfully found a rhythm that made the other woman twitch with pleasure. She continued to thrust, faster and harder, the breath of her own arousal having barely enough time to escape her mouth.

The younger woman let out a load moan. Her vaginal walls began to clamp and release repetitively, signaling her orgasm. She lay there for a while, catching her breath.

Regaining her composure, Sombra flipped them both over with a smile. She straddled the other woman and kissed her on the cheek.

"Now then, araña, it's my turn to show you a good time."

* * *

**Translations:**

**¡Qué encantador! = How charming!**

**La cache-coeur fendu fin = these are terms used in French to describe the kind of clothing. The make of this dress is crossed over the chest with a split form. The material is thin, giving the dress a sleek look.**

**D'accord = Alright**

**Bella dama = pretty lady**

**Quel surprise = What a surprise**

**C'est rien = it's nothing**

**A/N: Since the release of further lore, a few discrepancies have emerged in the story. Given that the storyline has already established a few things that clash with the current cannon of Overwatch, the fanfiction will only be based off the canon prior to Moira's release, as Reaper's wraith form was assumed to be a result of Mercy's technology. (A popular fan theory at the time)**


	12. Chapter 12

**Watchpoint: Gibraltar**  
November 7th

"I told you, I told you, I don't know where the treasure is!"

The screeching did nothing but intensify the lights beaming down on the Australian terrorist. Soldier:76 squinted. This would be almost a week of interrogation now, and his patience was wearing thin.

"If you're referring to the riches you obtained in Ayutthaya, they could be at the bottom of the ocean for all I care. I'm asking you to tell me about what was going on in the Talon base in Dorado. Now, if you want to keep what few limbs you still possess, I'd suggest you start talking."

Junkrat's face screwed up as if he'd been forced to eat a lemon.

"Now you listen here, you drongo." He growled, raising his pointed finger as high as his restraints would allow it. "You better take all that back or else you'll regret it! That is in no way an acceptable way to treat a young spunk like myself! I am a guest in this establishment and demand to be treated like one! Where is your hospitality? Where around here can a good man get any respect? I tell you I have not gotten a single refreshment since my arrival and I..."

Soldier:76 slammed his forehead into his hand. _Kids these days._

Junkrat rambled on, oblivious to the fact that his interrogator was no longer listening. The door to the questioning room opened, granting Shrike access to the room. Her comrade looked up, surprised.

"I thought you were still sifting through the last of those blueprints?" He asked

Ana let out a snort. "As if any work could be done with all that noise coming through the glass. Why don't you let me do the questioning?"

Morrison glanced at the captive, still foolishly yapping about the state of his affairs.

"Go ahead. He's already gone through the other interrogators. We don't have much to lose."

The sniper shrugged. "Watch and learn, sadiq. Sometimes, it takes a woman to know."

They traded places, Ana taking a seat in the interrogator's chair, and Morrison taking her place in the observation room. The Aussie, who had still been babbling on about his horrendous living conditions until now, finally realized that there had been a change in staff. He straightened, trying to get a feel for the newest addition to the room.

Morrison went to check up on the progress Shrike had made in processing the final pockets of data. He booted up Athena's servers, taking a look at what had been unencrypted. The system flickered briefly, but readjusted, allowing him to access the contents. After what seemed and eternity of sifting through maps and going over a stray report sent to him about a dancing robot, he turned his attention back to the questioning chamber.

From behind the two-way mirror, Soldier:76 could see his partner leaning across the table, whispering. He turned the dial on the playback device, increasing the volume. Ana's voice came through, soft and sweet.

"...is rather impressive, if you ask me. It would have taken me days to set up all those explosives. And that building was just destroyed so utterly. How did you do it? I just _have_ to know."

He watched as Junkrat's face lit up with a grin, his demeanor having changed completely from when he was in the room. Despite the shackles binding his arms to the chair, the Aussie puffed his chest with pride. When he spoke, the excitement in his voice was barely contained.

"Well, sheila, I tell you this: I know my way around explosives. I set up every one of them remote controlled bombs, and I did it _all_ in under 48 measly hours. Every hall, every room. Nothing escapes the fire that is Jamison Junkrat the Great!"

"Oh my!" Purred Ana. "That _is_ impressive! But how did you manage to set them up in the main computer room? We were told that it would be heavily guarded, but not a trace of hardware was left."

Junkrat laughed. "Oh, you mean the big ol' lab with the hi tech rig? No, no, no. All the security for _that_ was electronic! Purple lady let me in when I told her I had official business. Smart of me, wasn't it? She played right into my hands!" At this, he bit his lip. "Truth is, though, mate... They don't even keep anything good in there. That set up? It's all just some device that encrypts data. Apparently all the important stuff was taken out the day before. What a bummer, amiright?"

In the darkness of the observation room, Morrison frowned. Could it really have been a coincidence for the God Program to have been moved the day before Overwatch laid out a secret attack?

No, he thought. It had to be. The only ones who knew about the operation beforehand were those organizing the mission, and select Vishkar's personnel. Nevertheless, the aged soldier made a quick mental note to keep an eye out for moles in the future.

Having enough for the time being, the former Overwatch leader left the device on record and went back to the blueprints.

* * *

**Talon safe house, unknown location**

Reaper slouched in the corner of the dark safe house, taking a moment to skim the day's news headlines. Not a meter away stood his old friend, Akande Ogundimu. The man boasted a broad and imposing figure, with an attitude to match. He lifted the curtains, peering out into the night. A few people here and there roamed the streets, with not a soldier in sight.

"It seems as though the masses have calmed significantly." He said.

Reaper nodded. Lately, with so much going on, people were doused in fear, constantly waiting for the next disaster. They didn't have time to let their minds linger.

"So what do you plan to do now, Akande? We both know Talon isn't quite ready to welcome you with open arms."

Doomfist gave a snort. "It is the nature of the hierarchy. A constant battle to cling to their leadership. Competitors are never good of news for the weakest links."

"Speaking of weak links," Said Reaper "the current 'leader' of our God project is starting to lose nerve. I hear that he's become reclusive and paranoid. Almost too much to function. Out of anyone, he would be your best target, after Vialli."

The comment elicited a laugh from his friend. "Eager, are we? Don't worry, your position as one of Talon's leaders is secure. As one falls, another rises. That has always been the way we weed out the weak. Although, if what you tell me is true, we may not even need to get our hands dirty."

It was true. A mutiny was rising, that much was certain. All they would need to do is wait and sweep up the prize once the fighting was done.

"And what of Sombra?" Rasped the wraith. "There's no doubt that she's behind the bulk of all this. She's not the type to fall for any of his antics, either."

Akande cracked his knuckles. "Let me take care of the raccoon. You just keep an eye out for any other abnormalities. I'll be seeing you in Italy."

* * *

**Watchpoint: Gibraltar**

Pharah walked up the steel steps of the watchpoint in a hurry. Her squadron's weekly training had gone on for longer than anticipated. She spared a glance at her watch.

_3:07pm. I'm late._

The Egyptian readjusted her grip on the heavy crate in her arms and continued up the staircase. Her arms and legs were begging for rest, but there was no time to delay. At last, she arrived at the top of the staircase and made her way down the hall to room 318.

Pharah cleared her throat nervously. _Get it together! You're a soldier, for God's sake!_

She exhaled in an attempt to rid the butterflies of her stomach, and knocked on the door. There was a rustling on the other side, followed by the distinct "click" of the lab door opening. It gave way to a familiar visage.

"Fareeha!" Greeted Mercy with a smile."It's good to see you. Come in; I'm sure that the box you're holding is quite heavy."

The doctor held open the door as Pharah stepped inside.

"Where would you like the crate?" She asked, looking around. Early November light streamed into the lab, illuminating the vicinity. The main desk was cluttered as always. Papers and charts covered much of the table's surface, leaving little room for the computer and writing utensils. The other three tables weren't much better. Save for the floor, there weren't many places that she could put the heavy crate.

"Oh, anywhere you like." Mercy said. She proceeded to clear off the table nearest to the window."I was so caught up in my work, I lost track of the time. I'm so sorry for the mess."

The soldier shrugged it off. _Some things never change._ She thought, as the other woman sorted through the mess.

While this was only her second such meeting since the rescue mission in Dorado, coming over for tea used to be a common occurrence in the past. Even if the blonde could not remember the times they shared together, Pharah was grateful that the medic seemed to enjoy it whenever she came over.

After placing the box down, the dark haired woman made her way to the table to two steaming mugs of black tea. Angela breathed in, savoring the aromatic steam.

_She's as beautiful as ever._

"My thanks again for bringing the research equipment to the lab for me." Chirped the Swiss woman. She wrapped her hands around the mug, taking in the warmth.

Pharah shook her head. "There's no need for thanks. I offered." She leaned forward, scrutinizing the doctor's face. "How have you been faring, with the memory loss?"

The medic frowned and laid down her mug. "If I'm honest with you, it's still a little unsettling. There are still many who expect me to know things that I can't recall. Faces, mostly. But Lena assures me that it will come with time. That there's no rush."

"Oxten?" Questioned Pharah. "It's good to see that you two get along. I was unsure, at first, if you'd have enough space to yourself."

A light blush painted its way across the blonde's cheeks, then faded. "Oh no, I'm very grateful to have her here. She offers ample comfort and reassurance. Although, sometimes I wonder if I ever will remember everything..." Her mood shifted

Seeing the worry in the others' eyes, Pharah reached over and took Mercy's hand in her own.

"Angela... Regardless of what you can or can't remember, I will never leave you behind. I will be here, without question." She paused. "That goes for all your friends, as well."

For better or for worse, Mercy seemed too preoccupied to pick up on the connotations of what was just said. She gave Pharah's hand a small squeeze and gave a weak smile. Both of them seemed to have forgotten their beverages for the time being.

"You know," Started Pharah. "back when my mother had only just disappeared, I remember feeling so lost. She was so important to me, and I could not imagine a life without her. I was alone in the world. Or so I had thought. It was during my lowest point that I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned, and was pulled into an embrace. 'You're not alone, Fareeha... We will be here for you. Overwatch is your family, now and always.' I was told. No matter what, you will have that same support."

Angela's smile brightened. "Really?"

Pharah looked at her with a soft smile. "Really."

It was fine. She never expected her to remember that day.

Mercy smiled. "You're right. I may have lost my memories, but I have yet to lose my friends."

Sitting in peaceful silence, they watched the sun steadily make its way to the end of the horizon.

"I hear that you will be going on another mission soon." Said Mercy.

The Overwatch captain nodded. "According to data that was retrieved with Athena's help, there are numerous research facilities affiliated with Talon that may be linked to recent events. Several agents were assigned to help Soldier:76 and Shrike to infiltrate one of them in particular, myself included."

"...Have you spoken to your mother at all, since the last time?"

"Unfortunately not. I plan to let her come to me first, this time. What she did was inexcusable, but if tries to come to me with an explanation, I don't think it has to be something unforgivable. I just want to see for myself if she still cares enough to make that first step."

"I see." In the short span of two weeks, the two women had become rather close. Mercy could tell that her friend was trying to stay strong, despite how removed her response was. Deciding it was time to change the subject, the medic got up and stretched.

"Did you want to see the newest vaccine I've been working on? This year's dose is coming along wonderfully, and I'd love your opinion."

They finished their cold tea and proceeded to enjoy further small talk as the evening wore on. Eventually, however, the time came for them both to leave. The two got up and walked to the door, setting the time for their next weekly meeting, and parted ways.

* * *

With November setting in in earnest, Gibraltar was starting to see its first rounds of snow. To combat the cold, many of the off-duty soldiers chose to congregate in the cafeteria, where coffee and shared body heat was readily available. Lena had scanned the crowded eating area herself in hopes of getting something to eat, only to find that not a seat was available. She sighed.

In the past, Gibraltar was actually known for its warmer climates. But these days, weather was far from predictable, and this region particularly was known to get cold, quickly. And as great as it was to have state of the art technology, it came with a price - in this case, a no-touch rule on virtually every thermostat.

Grabbing a quick snack from the vending machine, Tracer made her way to the next best place to warm up - the Forge. She dashed eagerly down into the watchpoint's basement floors.

The cheery Brit was neither hindered by the absurd amounts of scrap around the workshop entrance, nor the intimidating sign on the door itself. She giggled a little at the plaque, which read in bold text:

**KEEP OUT. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY**

_If I catch you touching my stuff, you're gonna lose an arm!_

The last line had been inscribed by the hand of Torbjörn himself.

As soon as she was in the door, Tracer could feel the heat wash over her. The furnace was aglow with molten metal, outlining in red the mechanic that was feeding it.

"Heya!" She greeted, making herself comfortable on the nearby couch. She unwrapped her granola bar and started to gnaw on the tough morsel.

The Swedish man before her scowled. "Lena! I keep tellin' you to knock, or at least use the bell! Is it really that hard?"

Tracer shrugged. "I just figure if you wanted to be left alone, you'd shut your door properly. It's never locked."

There was a small creak as the storage door gave way to a familiar bastion unit. It made its way over to the forge, hands chock full of scrap. It pranced over to the table, cocked its head, then shoved the pieces forcefully onto the stone surface.

"Hey! Careful with that, ya tin can!" Torbjörn exclaimed. He shook his head, turning to the bastion. "If the scrap gets smashed, it can result in an inferior product."

The robot raised his hands. "Bwooooo!"

The mechanic sighed. "Alright. Break time it is. Take this, Lena. Whatever it is yer eating certainly doesn't look too appealing." He tossed Tracer a small package of cardamom muffins.

She grinned, opening the pack. "Cheers."

The two were midway through their meal when a ringing blared out into the forge. Torbjörn bolted upright.

"Oj! I forgot that Winston said he needed a little talk. You! Bastion! Get in the supply closet. Go on!"

He waved at the machine, which just looked at him inquisitively. In a flash, Lena was at his side. "Alright, now. In we go!"

Winston's voice boomed through the door. "Torbjörn? I'm coming in. Do you have company over?"

The door opened just as Tracer fitted the bastion inside, hiding him from view. She leaned against the closet as nonchalantly as she could manage.

"Oh, hey there, luv! Fancy seeing you here!"

Winston adjusted his glasses, eyes taking in the scene. "Lena! Of course. Forgive me, I just thought I heard something rather strange..."

"Hahaha, nooo. Just having something for dinner. Just me and Torbjörn. Say, what brings you here?" She asked, hoping to change the direction of the conversation.

"Ah." Said the gorilla, retrieving some papers from his coat. "Just some orders for some more armor. There have been some startling reports of agents or people of interest who refused the invitation during the recall suddenly going missing in various places. I was thinking of sending a few people out to gather some information. In fact, I was going to hand this to you. I guess this saves me the trouble of looking."

He handed her an envelope of her own before turning to the mechanic.

"The armor would need to be light and discrete. Something that can be worn under our agents' clothing. Do you think it can be done?"

Torbjörn gave a small huff. "Of course it can be done. I suppose I'll have my head swimming with work soon enough. How long do I have?"

"I was hoping as soon as possible. My apologies, but its just been happening so suddenly..."

"As if time constraints can stop me, so long as I have the space in my workshop. Now if there's nothing else to be said about it, you two should leave me to my work. I have things to take care of."

He looked at Tracer, motioning to the closet as discretely as he could. The Brit nodded, leading Winston out the door with her.

"Right. Let's give Torb some space."

Now outside the Forge, Tracer had time to review the contents of the envelope. She was to be deployed in King's Row, where an agent had reportedly gone missing just a day prior. Using the local teleportation network, they should be able to slip in and out easily, with minimal disruption. A simple observation mission, it would take no more than a day. As always, Talon was the primary suspect.

"I know that your last clash with Talon in King's Row ended rather badly, but it's unlikely that they have a solid presence in England. Given that you lived there for an extended period of time, you know the area best."

Tracer nodded. She wasn't going to let what happened in the past affect her decision. But there was one thing she'd been meaning to ask for a while now.

"Hey, Winston... About my Chronal Accelerator..."

* * *

**Translations:**

**sadiq = friend**

**sheila = woman (australian slang)**

**Oj! = An interjection, akin to "oops" or "oh"**

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I've gotten a request recently to upload my work on this site, and so I followed through. It was originally posted on Fanfiction. net, but I hope that I can reach more readers by popping it here as well. Constructive criticism is welcome.


End file.
